When the Clock defies the Time
by Boom-Rhapsody
Summary: TRHP. IT was just a Prank, to get rid of potter. But they didn't get rid of him. Turn him into a baby? Hah, they did much more than that. they sent him back, back to their lord before their lord knew what the hell to do with him...
1. Crimson Mirror

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**When the Clock Defies the Time**

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**Chapter One: Crimson Mirror**

Cold, dank, musty and old portrayed the perfect description of the room. Moss grew in the corners amongst fungus, which also chose to grow along wall and ceiling. The stagnant smell and dripping water only finalized the face of residence below water, a lake that housed a giant squid, was that of a dungeon that belonged to a castle. The castle was an institution that for schooling of wizards and witches was its purpose.

And in that dungeon was a class, a very monotonous and testy class, for anyone whose house colors were not green and silver. The class was the study of potions, its teacher, Severus Snape. And in this class, behind rickety desks and brimming cauldrons, were students of Gryffindor and Slytherin, the oddest union of Houses for they hated it other with a passion. But the professor knew why these Houses were together; it was all the headmaster's doing.

"Now, class," Snape was saying; "Today we will be... Mister Potter, would you kindly explain as to why you are not paying attention?"

Said student raised his head, the lengthy ebony hair falling around his face. He looked at Snape innocently enough, but the green orbs were alight with all emotions Snape was accustomed to receiving. Harry Potter's companion, Ron Weasley, looked up at Snape as well, but no look of defiance graced his features.

Snape had to admit that, over the years, the Boy Who Lived had changed, and the most drastic of said changes happening after Sirius Black had met an untimely end. Yes, the savior to the wizarding word had changed. His right ear pierced, his hair now down to his shoulders, and although still only five-foot-seven, he had finally attained a lithe form of muscles. The young man was also attune to his surroundings and quite capable of decimating the entire castle with a stroke of his hand and a burning hellfire of his temper. But this was no threat to a person who had known the student for so long.

"I was paying attention, Professor," Harry said smoothly.

"Then, pray tell, what was I saying before?" Snape asked, gliding over with a menacing glare.

Harry looked at his hand tiresomely as he replied; "We're making _Higgin's Brew, sir_."

"Well, Mister Potter, since you seem to have the same arrogant air as yesterday, kindly inform us just what the _Higgin's Brew_ is," Snape said, turning and walking towards his desk.

Harry glared daggers at his professor, hands tightening into fists underneath the table as he replied; "_Higgin's Brew_ is an age-reversing potion, _sir_;" how he despised the aspect of school that was mandatory respect.

Snape turned around and nodded once; "Very good, Mister Potter, but five points will be deducted for your tone of voice and attitude."

"_Damn_ _him that make twenty-five today alone_!" Harry heard Ron whisper almost inaudibly through gritted teeth. Harry had to smirk at this.

"Now, you will all be put into pairs, and to make things fair I shall be appointing you all to your partners," he sat down behind his desk, picking up the roll; "Finnegan, Bulstrode..."

Harry looked out of the corner of his eyes to see both students roll their eyes in dismay, Seamus emitting a quiet groan before rubbing his temples and laying his head down on the table. Millicent did the same, save for her head only reached her palms, not the hard wooden table.

"Weasley, Parkinson..."

Ron outwardly groaned. Harry looked at him sympathetically. The Promiscuous girl was a bitch and everyone knew she took great joy in constantly bothering, no, more like annoying the hell out of anyone with a last name she considered lower than her own.

"Granger, Longbottom..."

That match always happened. Snape knew Hermione would be able to direct the clumsy and nervous Neville through the class with only minor incidents. Harry was glad that Neville wasn't paired with any Slytherin. Pity for a fellow Gryffindor spurred this, and Neville was one of the weaker as it were...

"Potter, Zambini..."

Harry glanced over at Blaise, who was conversing quietly with Draco Malfoy. Harry rolled his eyes and looked away. At least he hadn't been paired with Malfoy.

"Malfoy, Petal..."

Again, Harry looked at Parvati, who was sitting with Hermione, and the girl looked at him pleadingly. Harry shrugged; he was powerless in this. Why did people always look to him for help, even when it was an inevitable defeat anyway?

"Thomas, Goyle..."

Soon, they were all divided up, House with House, ironically. Harry picked up his things and moved over to Blaise's desk as Draco got up. Upon passing the blonde, quick words were said.

"Watch yourself, Potter, Blaise got his wand back today..."

"Make sure you fuck your pillow nicely tonight, Malfoy..."

The fresh comeback had Draco stall momentarily to chance a glare at the Gryffindor, before he finally sat down with Parvati.

"So, Potter, big Quidditch game coming up," Blaise said coolly as he set up the things necessary for the potion. He had already gone and collected the ingredients.

"And I'll kick Malfoy's pale arse, as tradition goes," Harry replied just as calmly.

"Don't be so sure," Blaise said; "Who's saying you'll make it to that game, eh?"

Harry paused, looking at the Slytherin. Blaise was reading the text from their potions book, as if unconcerned by what had passed his lips. Harry mentally shrugged it off, beginning to chop up roots.

"And I suppose detentions with McGonagall were fine?" Harry asked quietly, snickering.

Blaise had, three weeks prior, purposely exploded a chair during transfiguration, after having transformed it from a crow. That had earned him a lecture from McGonagall, and three weeks detention due to the fact that a chair leg had shattered one of the windows, while the seat had flown across the room and squashed a crow. The Gryffindors laughed at this, and so did the other houses. But it soon died on the grape vine. Harry hadn't forgotten, though, the idea still brought amusement to his otherwise brooding soul.

"Oh, splendid," Blaise said sarcastically, pouring a foul smelling, greenish liquid into the already boiling cauldron, wispy smoke escaping the surface to waft through the air.

"Well, I'm shocked," Harry said; "And here I thought McGonagall was your worst Professor. I'll have to spread the word as soon as possible."

Inwardly, Blaise's face fell. Potter definitely had the social power to make that possible.

"Well, being everyone's 'Golden Boy' does have its benefits," he remarked snidely, instead.

"I'm not so _Golden_, I _did_ see you for a time, after all," Harry whispered, his thigh brushing against Blaise's.

Blaise froze at the touch. True, in sixth grade he and Harry had had a quick tryst. It had been a secret, and had not gone past four months. Though home base had been reached a numbed of times...

"Of course, how stupid of me to forget," Blaise said, scooping up the root's Harry had been chopping up and dumping them into the potion.

"How _could_ you forget?" Harry whispered, looking at Blaise with gleaming emerald eyes; "Oh, of course you could, being a Slytherin it was probably just a one-night stand, what, _ten times_ over, to you?"

Blaise snickered; "You are catching on," he whispered, smirking as he waved his wand around the rim of the cauldron and whispered the finishing charm. The potion turned an icy blue; the desired coloration.

"Remember though, it was _I_ who dropped _you_," Harry murmured.

"And it is_ you_ who still brings it up," Blaise said; "Desperate, are we?"

"I just know it eats you alive to know I am with someone else while you aren't," Harry replied; "Well, this is done," Harry said, referring to their potion; "I'll take it up," he took a vial, collected a sample of the potion, and, bottling it, and rose from his seat.

Unnoticed by Harry, Blaise leaned back, meeting gazes with Pansy. He nodded, and Pansy nodded as well, rising herself. The Slytherin girl had a vial of her own, filled with a crimson liquid. She soon came up behind Harry, and, she "tripped". In a flash her long fingernails uncorked the bottle, and it managed to get onto Harry's sleeve and hand.

"Gah, what the hell?!" Harry shouted as his hand began to burn and Pansy fell into him. They both fell to the floor, Pansy rolling the now empty vial back and under Draco's chair. The blonde quickly bent down and picked it up, hiding it in his robes.

"Mister Potter!" Snape exclaimed, rising from his seat quickly; "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your use of vulgar language!"

"Professor, Pansy dumped some _sh _— crud onto me!" Harry said accusingly, glaring at the girl who had already risen.

"Oh, I'm 'sorry'," she said, smirking as Harry rose.

Harry sneered, mimicking her mockingly as he looked at his hand. The crimson potion has gone into his skin, making it appear like he had been burned. And it felt as if he were on fire. Harry gritted his teeth. The pain was nothing that he was not accustomed to.

"Potter, even _I_ wouldn't expect such an outlandish accusation from _you_," Snape said.

"Well, sometimes the truth is a bit garish, Professor, but look!" Harry held up his hand; "This doesn't just happen for no apparent reason!"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Snape asked incredulously; "Potter, stop making a show and bring your potion up before I deduct _all_ of your House's points away!"

Harry heard the snickering from the Slytherins, and he turned to glare at Pansy again. The girl simply waved before flipping him off, and Harry felt his hair beginning to bristle. He went to his seat, staring at his reddening hand.

Why hadn't Snape noticed?

Apparently, though, no one else had, either. Harry looked at Ron, who only looked back worriedly. Harry received the same gaze from Hermione, and sighing he returned to his reddened hand. It was very red now, and the pain was intense, so much he feared his lip would begin to bleed form his teeth biting down upon it.

"Don't seem too arrogant now, Potter," Blaise muttered as he read his textbook.

"_Sick fuck_," Harry mouthed to Blaise with a glare as he did the same, taking his book with his good hand.

"Oh, several months ago that's not what I was hearing," Blaise whispered with a chuckle.

The class ended, and everyone filed out. Harry was a little slower due to his lack of a left hand. The pain felt as if his flesh was slowly being picked at and pulled away. It was grueling and horrendous, the dark magic was diluting Harry's very blood. He felt it, knew it, and despised it. He finally put his book bag over his shoulder, and left.

Ron and Hermione were waiting by the steps leading to the main entry way, and met up with him, both still perturbed by the class period.

"Harry, mate, what was that about?" Ron asked.

"Damnit, my hand is killing me!" Harry muttered; "Parkinson really did something, guys, I swear it!"

"But Harry, nothing's wrong with you hand!" Hermione said exasperatedly. She reached out and took Harry's wrist gently, and he winced in pain; "What's on your sleeve?" she asked.

"What ever got onto my hand!" Harry replied through gritted teeth, pulling his hand away; "I'm going to try and wash it off..."

Hermione and Ron followed him as Harry ascended the staircase; "Harry, it has to be dark magic," Ron said; "If we can't see it..."

"And it's hurting you so badly," Hermione added.

"Plus the fact that it was Pansy who did it," Harry muttered; "I swear, if I ever meet one Slytherin in a hallway alone, Azkaban or not, one will take a hit for the team," he stopped when he reached th boys' restroom; "Tell Professor Lupin that I got caught up with something," he said before going in.

Before Ron could follow, Harry stuck his head through the door and said; "I'll be fine," before disappearing again.

"Let's go," Ron said, taking Hermione's hand as he began walking away; "We'll be late for class."

"But Ron! _Harr_y—!" Hermione protested.

"Will be _fine_," Ron interrupted; "Whatever's bugging him is his business."

* * *

Harry took his bag off, and removed his robes. He rolled his shirt sleeves up, before turning on the cold water and holding his hand and lower arm beneath it. Harry sighed; it dulled the burning pain. Looking down, he noticed the red blemish had steadily progressed to half-way up his forearm, mere inches from his elbow. This worried him to some extent. Would it consume him? Harry ran hot water, and was startled when the pain all but disappeared.

Harry looked at the mirror, staring at his reflection. His mirror self shown, and Harry realized that he was glowing. Gasping, he stumbled back, slinging water everywhere in his haste. Falling to the ground, Harry held his arm with his hand, staring in fixated shock and fear as he saw that the reddened skin had turned black. Jumping up, Harry stumbled backwards and into the large basin of a sink. He fell back, head colliding with mirror.

And, furthering Harry's anxiety and horror, he slowly fell through the mirror as if it were nothing but a horizontal pool of reflecting water.

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**TBC**

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Dedicated and written for** madewithlemons**, a very good friend

Don't forget to review and tell me how it was.

Intended pairings are: Tom/Harry.

Hint for next chapter: what lies within the mirror...


	2. Darkest Reflections

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

**Chapter Two: Darkest Reflections**

A cold, yet warm, drift, a current with no route or specific pace to its unknown name, yet that was what carried the unconscious form along in the dark abyss of unknown territory. Magical territory; the energy and the aura was everywhere, from the bottomless fathoms below to the open midnight of the above. But all of this mingled together in Harry's vision. His glasses had fallen, he did not know where, but it did not matter.

There was no color here. There was no light. It was a weightless expansion of reality, or perhaps some twisted fool's creation. Or perhaps it was another dimension, adjacent to that of Harry's. Whatever it was, it didn't quite matter. It seemed that here, not much did, for there was not a thing to worry over.

So this, the silence, the epitome of maddening stillness, brought Harry to his mental knees. He thought of his life, then. How scarred he must be by now, both within and without

Through years of living with Muggles, he'd been neglected, beaten, and otherwise abused. And after his discovery of his natural world, that of the wizards, he still was forced into a position the he thought that only by free will would have been considered. He was fashioned into a lethal weapon, a secret army to the Order and for the Light, the one who was to kill Voldemort. All his life, his supposed destiny, was bent on destroying a single man, though powerful, but a man none the less. But was it his? Perhaps the irony of fate that his parent's death and his survival sparked a fire in weary mindsâ€?

No, that was not to be. He was Harry Potter, no amount of foolery or magic would ever change that, he knew. Harry allowed a sigh to pass across his lips, and felt the air automatically chill before he even chanced to inhale. But he did, and the cold spread through him like it was a part of his very complex, yet utterly simple, means of living.

The endurance of his pain... how it seemed so like breathing. Instinctive, primitive, necessary, mandatory... he had to, to survive through his childhood to end up

"Here" Harry breathed morosely, his voice cracking for lack of caring and its being devoid of resolution.

A sudden rush, an invisible, numb wind, blew Harry, jettisoning him forward, though he could hardly tell. Eyes fixed helplessly forward, up and into the dark nothingness... He closed his weary green orbs and heaved a sigh again, his body going slack with the ethereal current.

He only noticed as his ears began catching a conversation, that of people, of wizards.

"It's ludicrous, the nerve of that horrid teacher..."

"Perhaps you should just hex him, then..."

"No, that would not be wise and you know it..."

Harry willed himself to roll around and face forward, and his eyes blinked back and he squinted in surprise from the sudden light. It was shaped like a standing rectangle, and he realized it to be in the shape of a mirror. Could the voices be from behind the rectangle, the reverse side of a mirror? Harry watched on in awe and mixed confusion as he neared the light, eyes growing accustomed to it. Was his stay that short-lived? Confusion was replaced with meager hopefulness. Cautiously, Harry stretched out his hand, flexing his fingers before the appendages stretched out as he neared the rectangular escape route.

And, to his relief and surprise, his fingers touched the rectangle. It was cold, slick, the surface of glass.

"Tom, what the hell is happening to your mirror?!" came a voice from the other side.

"I have no idea, Marcus, but it is interesting..."

"You daft get away from it!"

And Harry closed his eyes and put both hands against the glass, beating his fists against it. He withheld a scream as a ripple of pain coursed through him like an electric shock. But he ignored, beating against the glass again.

"_Tom, the glass_!"

"I know, Marcus! It's... _it's glowing_!"

Harry smirked, moral boosted by the stunned voices. Again and again he struck, causing pulses to ripple through the glow. Soon, a hazy picture appeared in the center, which only spurred Harry on.

And finally, with a shout, and several slamming fists later, he fell through.

Harry grunted as he hit the sink, hands flying out before falling to th floor in a heat. He lay there, body adjusting to gravity, ignoring the gasps he heard.

"Marcus, get help!"

"But... but _Tom_!"

"I said get help!"

Harry vaguely heard shuffled and rushed footsteps, and someone bending down beside him and rolling him over onto his back. His vision was blurry, but as it cleared he could make out the handsome, worried face of a young man apparently his age. Black hair cut short and parted elegantly, pointed chin and elegant cheekbones with a evenly-set nose, and glittering deep, almost purplish onyx eyes.

Harry shouted out in sudden realization at what he had done, ego trip killed like a chicken against an axe. He scooted away, soon finding himself breathing heavily and pressed against a wall. His eyes darted around; he was in a bathroom, like the bathrooms on the fourth floor of the school. At this, Harry's breathing regulated. But all this time, the handsome stranger watched him, either too stunned or too lost in thought over Harry to say anything.

Harry wanted to get up and dust himself off, but it was just impossible. His limbs felt like led weights. He wanted to talk, but his throat would not respond to his mind's promptings. So, he finally sighed, steadying his breathing completely.

"Who are you?" the stranger finally asked, head inclining to the left slightly as he looked at Harry's face.

Harry stiffened, able to draw one knee up and sling his arm over it. Tingling sensations of numbness plagued his entire form, but he kept it hidden behind a mask of indifference; "Harry," he said hoarsely.

"I'm Tom, Harry," the stranger said, offering his hand.

Harry's hand weakly reached out. Tom came over and shook his hand, smiling; "Mind explaining how you got through the mirror, Harry?" Tom asked, surprisingly very kindly and eloquently.

Harry looked over at the mirror, head turning slowly with his gaze. The mirror looked as if nothing had occurred, as if he had not fallen through it. Harry looked back at Tom, studying the other boy. Green-rimmed robes and the house seal of the snakeâ€ no surprise there; that was a fact Harry knew very well.

But the kindness Tom displayed to him was a little odd. The Tom Riddle he knew was Voldemort, the menace to the Wizarding world and Muggle society. This person and the one Harry had fought six times already were one in the same. Harry knew better though; he was convinced that all Time needed was a free moment

"Do you know where you are?" Tom asked slowly.

Harry glared; "I'm no child," he replied, coughing.

"I never said you were," Tom said; "Harry, how the hell did you get through the mirror?"

"Damn curse," Harry replied shortly; "Help me up," he said, again holding out his hand.

Tom took it, and pulled Harry up off of the ground. He was about to support Harry fully, but the raven-haired youth merely shoved the other away with what little strength he could must. Harry swayed, vision blurring with the sudden rise to his feet, and he held his arms out. Tom caught Harry as he began to fall backward, chuckling quietly as he set the Gryffindor upright again.

"Still want help?" Tom asked with a smirk, and Harry glared at him, but in the end nodded.

"You're hands badly beaten up there," Tom said suddenly, eyes fixed on Harry's left hand.

Harry looked down. Apparently, Tom could see the red blemish that resembled a mild burn. Harry shrugged as he held his hand up with fingers slightly bent, and said; "Damnit," as a waved of pain went up his arm and to his head.

"The med-witch apprentice will have to help you with that," Tom said; "Come on; I'll help you to the infirmary. It's a long way up," he added quietly as he set Harry's arm across his shoulders.

Harry began to notice the slight height difference. Tom was slightly taller, perhaps an inch, at most. Tome led him out of the bathroom and they began walking up the stairs, silence reigning.

"Tom," Harry finally said quietly; "What year is it?"

Tom looked at him; "It's October 22, 1954, Harry," he replied; "Why?"

Harry looked away, shaking his head as a silent reply, but all the while thinking _over forty-five years. Damn you, Parkinson_

Tom watched the stranger Harry worriedly. The youth, who appeared to be his age, appeared troubled. Truth be told it had been a fearfully spectacular sight to see a person come through a mirror with a glow of red, but since the glow had faded and Tom's companion had run in search of help that would likely never come quick enough anyway.

At this Tom sighed, frustrated. The assigned Healer of Hogwarts was on leave for the Ministry, and had left his apprentice, Poppy Pomfrey, in charge. Though Tom had never been in the hospital wing long enough, he heard that she was a forthright woman who forced horrible healing potions on students.

He only hoped that Harry would not have to prove the rumor's harsh realities. Tom looked at the tan face, the set cheekbones and slightly Romanesque nose, the green eyes he had never seen of such a shade that they reminded him of gems, the long ebony hair that fell to shoulder in the back and splayed bangs in the front; the ear piercing. And this Harry had a set figure, lean but not skinny, muscular but not overly so. _Perfect_, Tom found himself thinking, but he immediately smacked himself for the lusting. But after all, he was a sixteen-year-old young man who had notâ€well, that was another story.

Harry could feel Tom's eyes, but years in the Light of the Order's Show had fashioned his endurance to take it. He ignored it, quite completely in fact, and was soon lost to his own thoughts. He only realized what position he was in when he heard the sound of a creaking door, a door he knew well enough, opening. Harry soon found himself being placed atop a hospital bed, Tom sitting down across from him on another. Harry looked around, knowing he appeared innocently dazed and a little anxious. It was his eyes that held the nervous look, the look that won him so many free chances in life.

And Tom fell for it.

"Harry, are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Harry looked at him and nodded, before looking at his left hand. While his right supported his weight by being pressed against the mattress, his left hand lay in his lap, fingertips twitching slightly with every slight wave of pain. Harry had already grown accustom to it. A sad ability, to become used to pain so quickly, but again, trials of life had hardened his endurance.

Harry's head snapped up, drawn again from his thoughts, as he heard the sharp tapping noise of heeled boots on stone flooring. A very youthful Poppy Pomfrey bustled out of the side room of the infirmary and down to the bed, her eyes darting around the tray she had. Her face was set in thoughtful determination.

"Now Tom, Marcus said you were coming up with some stranger?" she said as she looked up, but nearly dropped the tray when she saw Harry looking at her. Had she not possessed such quick reflexes several messy potions and items would have fallen to the floor.

"Oh my," she breathed, shocked; "I see you two weren't fooling me!" she tried to smile, but honest surprise still masked her features. Setting the tray down on the edge of the bed, she cleared her throat; "Mister Riddle," she said; "Please alert the headmaster. Or better yet, please alert Albus Dumbledore."

"Of course, madam," Tom grumbled, getting up. Casting a finally look of worry at Harry, he then departed.

Harry watched Tom leave, before slowly looking up at Pomfrey. The woman was busy collecting a quill and parchment. The parchment and quill both floated, and Harry instantly thought of Rita Skeeter.

"Now, could you tell me your name, young man?" Pomfrey asked, looking Harry up and down.

"Harry," the youth replied simply, looking down.

"What's your last name, dear?" Pomfrey asked kindly, sitting down in the bedside chair.

Harry looked around at the ground as he sought for the best reply. He could not give her his real name, nor could he give her his parents. It would cause suspicion, a disturbance amongst the few that would catch on.

"Harry?" Pomfrey asked worriedly; "Perhaps you're just a little traumatized?" she asked kindly.

Harry shook his head; "No," he replied; "My name is Harry Tomelson," he said, eyes never meeting the gaze.

Pomfrey nodded; "Dear, how did you get to Hogwarts?" she asked.

"I believe I'll ask him that, Poppy."

Harry's head lifted and he looked towards the exit. Standing there was none other than Albus Dumbledore, Tom behind him and peering around. The wizard had not changed, save for less facial wrinkles and a shorter beard. Not to mention he lacked the pointed hat he wore. It was replaced by a small cap refer to second movie. He was looking at Harry, that very same twinkle in his eyes.

"_Harry_, is it?" Dumbledore asked, smiling slightly.

Harry nodded wordlessly, looking at Tom. Tom shrugged, looking quickly at his professor.

"Would you mind following to my office?" Dumbledore asked; "We can clear this entire ordeal up and see what is to happen next."

Harry tried to rise, knowing the man was not one to lie, and found that his knees did not buckle under him. Tom moved over to aid him, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said, smiling slightly.

"Well, come along," Dumbledore said.

* * *

Tom inevitably had to aid Harry along, again slinging the stranger's arm over his shoulders as they followed the then teacher Albus Dumbledore. The three walked silently up the flight of stairs, and onto the fifth floor. The sconces lit with eternal flames cast shadows along the walls, the faint light falling over sleeping portraits. /Is it that late?/ Harry thought.

"What time is it?" he asked aloud, looking at Tom quizzically.

"Nearly eleven," Tom replied.

"Then why--?"

"Marcus is a prefect, and I am Head Boy, Harry," Tom explained; "We were taking a moment during our shifts."

"Oh," Harry said, feeing stupid for his naivety. That was a given. He looked away.

"Suppose you wouldn't know what a Prefect is, though, would you?" Tom asked quietly, kindly.

"I know what a Prefect is, and a Head Boy," Harry said roughly, "I'm not stupid!"

"He never said you were, Mister Tomelson," Dumbledore interjected from ahead of them.

Harry looked up to see that the old man had stopped outside of a large mahogany door. Tom and Harry were walking slower, though Har could feel his legs by now and his knees weren't hurting so much as before. They walked up to it, and Harry felt Tom tense beside him.

"Mister Riddle, I thank you for escorting Harry," Dumbledore said; "But I think it's time that I take over from here. You need to return to your duties, anyway,"

Tom looked unsure, and Harry looked at him thankfully as a sign that he appreciated the concern. But then Harry looked at Dumbledore. He knew this person, trust was something he was familiar with. Dumbledore had yet to truly backstab him, so Harry decided that, since this Dumbledore did not know, then he would be even more trustworthy.

"It's okay," Harry said; "I know this man."

Tom looked at him quizzically, as did Dumbledore. Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"It can be explained soon enough, I'm sure," Dumbledore; "Now, if you could" he opened the door with a wave of his hand.

Harry stepped away from Tom, saying a quiet "Thanks" before walking through the doors. He stopped just shy of a descending step leading to a sitting area. The walls were almost cavernously huge, lined from floor to ceiling in bookcases and shelves. The sitting area sported over-stuffed chairs and sofas, all surrounding a coffee table in front of a blazing fire.

The warmth went straight to Harry's bones, and for a moment, he allowed his guard to fall. But he snapped back to reality when he heard the door close, turning around to see Dumbledore turned away from said door, smiling kindly at Harry.

"Please, Harry, sit, I'm sure you're tired," he said, a hand gesturing to a sofa as he took a seat in an armchair.

Harry studied the old man, considering the offer, but finally took a seat on the sofa closest to the door.

For a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Dumbledore said; "I must say that this is very astounding," he chuckled; "Never before has someone fallen through a mirror."

"Or through time," Harry muttered as he sank back into the cushions and crossed his arms.

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked; "Why would you say that?"

Harry rolled his eyes; "Where else would I have come from but another time?" he asked.

"I take it you're a little disheveled by your experience," Dumbledore said; "Harry, what time do you come from?"

Harry was silent as he thought of an answer; "About fifty-five years from now," he replied.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he too, leaned back with surprise, border-lining shock. He studied Harry for a time, sizing him up; "Well, this is astounding," he said, "What shall we do about it?"

"Get me back to my time, Professor, that's what we need to do," Harry said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees; "It's imperative that I do return as quickly as possible. I have a world to save."

At this, Dumbledore chuckled; "Young man, I hardly think that"

"No, you don't know what you're going to face fifty years from now, Professor," Harry interrupted; "The future is at stake, and I'm the one with the burden to save our wizarding world as we know it."

"Oh, so you are a wizard then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes!" Harry said, and instinctively, he reached back for his wand. But it was not there. His eyes grew wide with surprise and sudden anxiety; "MY wand!" Harry gasped, checking all of his pockets; "Where's my wand?!" he looked down his shirt, in every pocket, his boots, everywhere.

"Perhaps it did not accompany you," Dumbledore said.

Harry fell back onto the sofa, holding his head in his hands. He knew wandless magic, yes, and was quite capable of just doing that, but he needed his wand for safety's sake. He couldn't let people know he had that much power. But, he wasn't in his own time anymore; he might be able to pull it off here. But, if he were to show he could use wandless magic, he could be considered a threat. There was never a pro without its con, at least for Harry. He chewed on his thumbnail as his thoughts increased in volume and intensity.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, tone tinged with worry.

Harry looked up; "Yes," he mumbled; "It didn't make it through theâ€ the mirror."

"Yes, could you explain how this all happened?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head; "It was prank," he stated; "I had a potion poured on my arm and hand;" he held his left hand out, showing that it was still red; "And, when I went into the bathroom to wash it off, and I slipped, fell back, and I ended up justâ€ going through the mirror," he inclined his head towards the ground as he thought of the realm he had been in for some time; "And then, I found myself coming out of the mirror, and Tom was there, with his friend."

Dumbledore nodded; "A potion, you say," he mused, stroking his long beard; "Well, Harry, we need to return you as soon as possible. Would you know what might the contents of the potion be?"

Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore nodded; "Well, we will find a solution. For now, you will need to find a place to rest."

"Could I be in a dormitory?" Harry asked suddenly; "The hospital wing"

"Oh yes, you shouldn't be left to your own means at such a time," Dumbledore said, rising; "Now, we could sort you, but I have a feeling that you should just go with whichever you choose," he paused; "You do know the Houses, right?"

"Of course," Harry said, slowly standing as well; "I'm in my Seventh Year at Hogwarts, well, in my time," he paused; "I'd like to stick with Tom, if possible."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, one eyebrow skeptically rising.

"Yes," Harry said; "He's the first person I met coming here. I trust him."

Dumbledore nodded; "We will arrange this for you, Harry. Now, follow me."

Harry nodded, and proceeded in following Dumbledore out of the chambers, and down into the dungeons. He was surprised at how much his strength had returned him, and how his hand seemed unaffected minus the blemish. He followed Dumbledore on down into the depths of Hogwarts, and they soon came to two large marble statues of Snakes, a portrait of Salazar Slytherin between them.

"Deputy-Headmaster," the portrait said, voice smooth as ice and coming in a gentle sighing hiss.

Harry stood with his shoulders slack and back straight; there was someone watching him, he couldn't mistake the feeling. Harry looked out of the corner of his eye, challenging the shadows to bring forth their secrets, but he received no reply of movement or sound. Looking again, he did catch the swishing motion of robes to his right, down at the far end of the corridor and behind a statue.

"Sir," Harry whispered, his head having yet to face the direction of the movement, his eyes supposedly glued to the tapestry before him; "Someone is watching us"

Dumbledore looked at Harry oddly, and then looked around; "Harry, I don't know what you mean," he said after he did so, gaze finally landing on the young man who was now standing stock still, as if poised for attack or defense.

Harry suddenly turned towards thee right, and threw his hand out and shouted; "_Stupefy_!"

The spell flew from Harry's hand, the rush of air that went before it knocking Dumbledore away from the line of fire, the old man shouting as he hit the floor. The spell went into the darkness of the corridor; there was a sound of surprise, and then, a thud. Harry stood straight, popping his knuckles with a look of sheer determination on his face.

"Oh, oh my," Dumbledore said, trying to rise. Harry helped the man up, looking down as he did.

"Sorry," Harry muttered; "It's... it's habit, Professor."

"I have never seen that before!" Dumbledore gasped as he began walking down the hallway. He stopped, looked at Harry disbelievingly, then continued.

Harry waited, looking at the portrait. Salazar's eyes were wide with shock, his mouth agape, the snake that had been slithering around his feet having stopped as well.

Dumbledore reappeared, looking a little flustered; "Harry, you were indeed right," he said, and Harry saw he was levitating a person behind him; "A third year trying to sneak back," Dumbledore explained, bringing the young girl around.

Harry looked up. He'd stunned a child, a young girl. The guilt was there, but not for long. She had caused it on her, he was acting only out of defense and as a result of his training.

"_Enervate,_" Dumbledore whispered as he sat the girl on the ground and waved his hand over her face. The girl's eyes snapped open, and she gasped.

"Miss Porter," he said, "It appears that you are out after curfew..."

The girl looked fearfully up at Dumbledore, and then she glanced at Harry. He stared at her, and the girl looked away.

"Sir...I...I was" she stuttered as she rose; "I was just coming back from the... the library!"

Dumbledore stared at the girl skeptically, not believing a word; "Miss Porter," he said; "You shall attend a detention with Professor Thomas."

"Yes, sir," the girl muttered, looking down.

"Now, go, to your House," Dumbledore said, chuckling as the girl trudged away.

"Why are you laughing?" Harry asked after she had departed.

"Oh, Miss Porter is always wondering down here to visit her significant other," Dumbledore said; "Now," he turned back to the portrait; "Salazar, grant me entrance."

The portrait, still stunned by the display, swung open, revealing an archway that was the entrance to a tunnel, Harry could see the faint glow of torches at the end.

"Come along, then, Harry. Tom will more than likely be in the common room," Dumbledore said.

And so saying, the two walked through the short tunnel and into the Slytherin Common Room.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

dedicated to **madewithlemons**, a good friend. 


	3. On This Side of Time

**A/N:** Okay, some mistakes on my part.

1.) Tom and Harry are both 17, as in Seventh Year

2.) Dumbledore is **deputy**-headmaster, and a professor

3.) Some idgitt who created the quick edit made it to where the system didn't upload the dot-dot-dots. So, the â€ sign, that meant "..." and then on some places it wouldn't load at all. Made me a bit upset that I didn't notice is sooner, sorry.

Also, as a final note, I did repost an **_Inuyasha_** story. Just go to my bio and please take a moment to read it. There's only one chapter, and it's short.

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

_And you're not thinking about tomorrow  
'Cause you were the same as me  
But on your knees  
A thousand other boys could never reach you  
How could I have been the one  
I saw the world spin beneath you  
And scatter like ice from the spoon  
That was your world  
Comin' down the world turned over  
And angels fall without you there  
And I go on as you get colder  
Or are you someone's prayer  
You know the lies that they always told you  
And the love you never knew  
What's the things they never showed you_

_That swallowed the light from the sun_

Goo Goo Dolls-_Black Balloon_ slightly altered

**Chapter Three: On this Side of Time**

Harry's eyes grew wide as he saw the Common Room of Snakes. The room was warm from the single blazing fireplace; there were black leather sofas with dark green and silver blankets on their backs, throw pillows, and oriental rugs. The walls were of course grey stone, as was the entire castle, but tapestries hung from them, along with portraits of former Slytherin Greats. There were two halls off from the entrance platform, i.e. meaning where Harry was standing there were three steps descending to the fireplace and the sitting areas.

Tom, who had been sitting in an armchair by the fire, rose quickly and walked over to them, a look of relief on his face.

"Professor," he said solemnly, inclining his head.

For a moment, Harry took in the Tom Riddle, Voldemort. It struck Harry as astounding, that this person who had shown him such kindness would become a rampaging murderer out for _his_ blood. Harry couldn't place whether or not if he was being tricked, normally that was the first thing he would search for, lies. He'd become very good at it, but Tom made it seem as if he had no skill at all.

"Tom, as you are Head Boy," Dumbledore said; "I have issued that a second bed be established within your chambers, so that Harry won't have to bother with strangers just yet."

"Of course, Professor," Tom replied, though his tone showed his utter surprise of the statement. Not that he minded, no, he was quite okay with the matter, but to think that Harry would readily trust him was a surprise. Not many trusted him, not after last year's incident. He doubted if his few friends did, but they were still around him so it didn't matter much. But Harry probably, if not likely, knew nothing, so of course Tom shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.

"Wonderful that you've agreed; now, Harry," the aging wizard faced the younger, his eyes serious; "You are an exchange student from Beauxbatons, understood? The faculty and students will be told this, so this secret is between you, I, Tom, Marcus, and I am considering Poppy. Is this satisfactory?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said; "But, I don't have any clothing..."

"Don't you know it's Friday?" Tom asked; "Tomorrow, we could go to Hogsmead, or if you aren't up to that, just borrow some of my things."

"Well, Tom has come up with solutions," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly; "Now, I will leave you two, and remember, no one will know, Harry, unless you choose to tell them. But I warn you, some people cannot be trusted with such information;" the statement was low and grim, but Dumbledore's mood swung back to pleasant as he smiled; "Good eve to you both."

Harry and Tom watched as the Deputy-Headmaster departed, then Harry looked at Tom. Why had he offered that? It was something Harry had not expected at all, and to hear it come from Voldemort's very mouth...

/This is _Tom_/ he told himself. /Not Voldemort, _Tom_.../ he sighed, and looked away.

"Harry," Tom said; "What's wrong? You seem... out of sorts..."

Harry knew that he was probably coming off as a bit shaken, in fact he was very taken aback by all of this, not to mention furious with certain Slytherins of the future. He was contemplating on how he would possibly survive his time here, let alone surviving his ultimate adversary and the future Dark Lord of Tomorrow.

"Come, it's apparent that you need rest," Tom said, ushering for Harry to follow him. Harry nodded, rubbing his temples as he followed the Slytherin Head Boy. Harry followed him down the left corridor, and the soon traveled to the very end. Tom stopped in front of an old, oaken door that was seemingly guarded by two statues of snakes, Harry vaguely being reminded of a pair of basilisks.

"_Est conforme au juste_," Tom said, glancing at Harry with a smirk before the snake statues hissed and the oak door opened.

"Conform to the just," Harry mumbled, before following. He had gained a new sense of reckoning; perhaps Tom Riddle had a demon, one that would consume him and let his name be known.

The Head Boy's chambers were actually like that of a flat, or so it seemed. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, complete with a table, counter space, and icebox. There was a small den, a fireplace, a personal archive of books along the far wall, and two doors at the opposite back wall of the door. Harry looked around at the warm blacks, silvers, and greens.

"Well, it's not much," Tom said as he began walking over to the door on the left; "This leads to the bathroom, while this one," he walked over to the door on the right, and opened it; "Is the bed chambers..." he peered inside; "And it seems that a bed has indeed been procured..." he looked at Harry; "Suppose this will be your home for a time..."

"Err, right," Harry said, absently running his hands over each other, wringing them together as he looked around the room, at the high ceilings... the sconces... the portraits... the statues...

"Harry?" Tom asked, finally snapping Harry from his thoughts.

"Hmm?" Harry asked dully, looking at Tom and blinking slowly. He suddenly had to yawn, and could not restrain it.

"You're tired, come on," Tom said, walking in.

Harry followed, a part of him screaming to just kill the bastard-to-be while he had the chance. But he went into the room, not surprised when he saw that it was dark and warm. There was a desk, two bookshelves, a door open and apparently leading to a closet, and then there were the twin canopy beds, one on each side of the room. Harry could tell which one was his; the one to the right was crisp and new, magical afterglow from evident transport, or transfiguration. He sighed, content with knowing he'd be sleeping somewhere other than a floor or sofa.

During this time, Tom had disappeared into the closet, returning with two set of pajamas, on for him and the other for Harry. Harry turned and watched Tom, eyeing the black set with interest.

"A dark fan, are we?" Tom asked, smirking as he tossed the bundle. Harry deftly caught it midair, completely breaking from his still standing and rushing a good ten feet to do so. "Ah, and a Quidditch player," Tom said matter-of-factly, setting the dark green set on his own bed.

"How could you tell?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer. He went over to his bed, drew back the curtains, and sat down on it, facing Tom and watching the other wizard intently.

"Well, it's obvious for your reflexes," Tom said, a little arrogant of his knowledge.

Harry only smirked and shook his head, continuing to gaze. He knew it made Tom uneasy, for the other teen coughed distractedly and stood, taking the pajamas with him; "I'll just be a moment," he said; "You may change out here, if you wish.." thus said, he exited the room.

Harry waited until he heard the bathroom door close, then he jumped off and hurriedly took his clothing off. He then put on the soft, silk pajamas, buttoning the shirt up just as Tom entered, he doing the same.

"Where are your clothes?" Harry asked, seeing no robe had come with the other teen.

"Oh, dirty clothes hamper," Tom replied simply; "Well, you don't expect me to leave clothing lying around, do you?" He asked at Harry's sudden look of mild surprise.

"Do people wash them for you?" Harry asked, sitting down.

"As a matter of fact, house elves do," Tom replied, going over to the desk. He sifted through several papers, then froze. He looked back up at Harry; "I just noticed something..." he murmured, eyes intent on Harry.

"What?" Harry asked, appearing unbothered by the statement. But inside, he was growing wary. His wand hand twitched as magic began to flow freely, a need to defend growing in the back of the young wizard's mind.

Slowly, Tom walked over, and Harry leaned back as he suddenly found the Slytherin in front of him, barely a breath away. Harry knew what Tom was staring at; his scar. He mentally sighed and waited, and finally, Tom's eyes traveled downward to meet his.

"Where did it come from?" he asked, backing away slightly.

"A battle," Harry said simply, hoping Tom would stay off the subject.

"It's old, though," Tom said, perplexed; "It's a magical scar, isn't it?" he asked, far too quietly for Harry's comfort level.

Silently, Harry nodded. Tom nodded; "The future is not very well, am I safe to say?" he asked.

Harry was silent; "There's a war going in, when I left, that is," he looked down.

"I feel like I know you, Harry," Tom suddenly said, sitting down; "It's the strangest feeling I've ever experienced. One moment, I want to befriend you, then, I want to... to _kill you_... it's all very confusing," he said; "And all of this in under two hours!" he said exasperatedly, looking at Harry again.

Harry stared at the jade orbs, seeing the crimson ring around the pupil. "I couldn't tell you, Tom," he finally managed; "I couldn't. I can't say why I—"

"I don't care about the bloody scar," Tom muttered darkly, rising; "You know me, in your time," he said, turning and facing Harry again; "You do..." he added, voice barely above that of a whisper.

"Maybe," Harry said, now very aware of what he said; "I might just look like someone you know."

"You do," Tom said; "You look like Potter..." he fell back to his bed, the backs of his legs hitting the mattress, causing him to sit. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes; "I should have expected this;" he mumbled; "It's only _obvious_," he calmed, and looked at Harry; "Sorry," he said; "I'm normally not like this at all. It's just... this is _astounding_..."

"A lot of people are saying that," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes; "Sorry if I seem a little apathetic. I'm a little furious at the moment..."

"You don't appear to be," Tom said, more musing than anything else.

"Better me this way, than the entire castle and all of its occupants turned to dust," Harry said, crossing his arms as he settled back.

"You couldn't possibly have that kind of power," Tom said, unbelieving.

"Don't bother trying," Harry said, "Tom, I'd hate for you to get hurt. Then where would I be with no one to trust."

"Trust s a valuable thing, Harry," Tom said; "Why would you trust me?"

"Hmm, who says that I do?" Harry asked apathetically, getting up; "Tom, let's just stick to being acquaintances for a while, okay? I have to catch up with the times before anything else..." he walked around and climbed under the warm blankets.

"Don't expect for this matter to be over," Tom said, climbing into bed as well.

Harry did not sleep until he knew that Tom was fast away in slumber. He rolled over onto his other side, and as he slowly fell asleep, he remembered thinking. /_What the hell has happened_.../

* * *

"Hey _Tom_, who's this?"

"Yes, Tom, _do_ enlighten us! Come on, you lazy _sod_, wake up!"

"Can't you see I'm _trying_ to sleep in here!"

"Come on, it's nearly ten! Let's go, Tom!"

"Oh, bloody hell, Romulus, do shut up..."

"Does anyone not notice the stranger in the second bed?"

"Hello, did any one of you learn how to use _a door_!"

"Up and at 'em, Riddle! Come on, let's go!""

Harry, eyes still closed, mentally laughed as he heard a thud and a loud curse word. He slowly opened his eyes, and shouted out as he was met with a pair of brown ones. In a flash Harry's hand had flown out to wrap around the neck of the person before him, and he shoved them away roughly.

"_Bloody Fuck!_ Don't do that ever again!" Harry warned dangerously, catching his breath and his eyes darting around.

He automatically noticed blonde hair, hair so blonde it was almost white, with pallid skin and grey eyes to go with it. Harry knew immediately who this person was, and it only took a single word; "_Malfoy_," he said, a hint of bitterness.

"Ooh Tom how _does_ he know my name?" the apparent Malfoy asked, his tone that of a curious and aristocratic person.

"Damn, does anyone care that I'm on the floor?"

Recognizing _that_ _voice_, Harry looked over the edge of his bed. He thought he was staring at a seventeen year old version of Sirius Black, but he was mistaken. It couldn't be Sirius, it never would be, rational thought had brutally kicked down Harry's mindless hope yet again.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, "Shocked me a bit."

"And I doubt that he didn't deserve it," came a remark Harry had heard earlier. Leaning against the door was a literal Adonis copy of Severus Snape, casual yet bored look suggesting he would rather be elsewhere.

"Oh of course you would say that, _Selred_, being the pacifist," the young man on the floor grumbled as he rose; "Ow, my poor head," he moaned, rubbing his temple gingerly.

"Okay, hold on!" Tom finally said, loudly and hinting irritation; "All of you, in the living room! GO!" he ordered.

"Not until you introduce us to this boy here," another, who had spoken earlier, said. Harry looked at him. Black hair cropped and bangs hanging loosely around his eyes, vivid blue eyes so dark they were almost black, a Lestrange by any other name.

"Fine," Tom said; "Harry, meet the Slytherin Quartet who act as though they own the place. This is Aldrich Malfoy, Roderick Lestrange, Selred Snape, and Romulus Black. Everyone, this is Harry Tomelson."

"From Beauxbatons," Harry finished, eliciting snickers from Aldrich and Romulus; "What?" Harry asked, dangerously.

"We've heard stories of guys from that school!" Romulus said, between his snickering.

"Oh? Well, this place isn't exactly pure and holy," Harry said sarcastically; "I've heard worse than those stupid rumors of my school."

"Oh, so you are gay, and openly kiss other men in public?" Romulus asked quirkily.

"No, you ponce," Harry said; "I'm straight and openly kiss _girls_ in public. Gods, have your ears cleaned, will you?"

Romulus rolled his eyes and Aldrich laughed; "You're quite the character, Harry, I think you'll fit in just fine," he turned to Tom, who had since climbed back into bed; "Oh, come on now, Tom! Let's go to Hogsmead! It's a waste of a Saturday to sleep!"

"Didn't I say for you all to go into the living room?" Tom nearly growled out from underneath the pillow, where he had tucked his head in an attempt to block out the noise.

"Come on, guys, before he hexes us," Selred said, walking out of the room.

Romulus up and followed him as well, leaving Aldrich and Roderick to snicker at the Black before they too, left. Tom groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. Harry shook his head as he rose, and stretched.

"You're quite good at lying," Tom commented as Harry picked up his slacks.

"Hmm? Oh, thanks, I guess," Harry replied; "It's just a talent, I suppose..."

"A talent that will take you far in life," Tom said; "Well, I'm off to the showers. Um... if you'd prefer to dress in _clean_ clothing, feel free to find a shirt of mine if you want," he went into the closet, returning with clothing under his arm and a bag in his other; "You could bathe after me, as well," he added, then, he was gone, out the door and off.

Harry nodded, shaking his head, and again thinking /What the hell has happened.../ as he got out of the pajamas and put on his jeans. Taking up Tom's offer, Harry walked into the closet.

Harry looked around. There weren't enough clothes to fill up the walk-in, but there was enough to host a healthy choice. There were mostly dark colors; greens, reds, blacks, and deep blues. There were slacks, but Harry chose to keep his dark denim jeans. He did, however, take a liking to a silk dark green, long-sleeve shirt, and he put it on, leaving a few of the top buttons undone as was his habit. Satisfied, Harry went back into the bedroom, and put on his boots. He ran a hand through his hair, not having a brush or comb, and, after getting what tangles he could out, he tossed his head to the side, thus succeeding in making his bangs slant to the side.

Harry walked out of the bedroom, and received a catcall. He looked over, realizing that it was Romulus who had whistled, seeing as how the Black was snickering. He and Roderick were on the couch, while Selred was leaning against the wall, and Aldrich had taken to sitting in the armchair, looking like the spoiled rich child that he was. Romulus, however, was splayed over the majority of the couch, while Roderick was leaning against the armrest to avoid the legs propped on the back of the couch. Selred had his arms crossed and head bowed, eyes closed in thought.

"Well, raiding Tom's closet, I see," Aldrich drawled; "Make yourself at home, then."

"He offered," Harry said, "Besides, my luggage was subsequently destroyed after my carriage had a run-in with a dragon. I couldn't help it that all of my belongings were burned, now could I?" he asked decisively, one eyebrow rising skeptically.

"Oh, he's got you there, Aldrich!" Romulus exclaimed, barking a laugh when Aldrich had no comment to add. Aldrich merely shrugged.

"So, Harry," Roderick said, "_Beauxbatons_, eh? You don't sound _or_ look French..."

"Well, I'm originally from Italy," Harry said, shrugging.

"Tomelson is not an Italian surname, though," Aldrich commented.

"My mother's British, and since my father was an immigrant, she couldn't take his name," Harry said, pausing; "She moved to Italy with him after he left and she found that she was pregnant with me."

"So, why did you end up in Beauxbatons instead of _Delarosa's Institute_ (1)?" Romulus asked, turning his head to look at Harry.

"Well, after my parents died, I was sent to France to live with my aunt and uncle. So, I was enrolled at Beauxbatons," Harry replied. He paused; "Any other questions you'd like to ask me?"

"Yes, you are a pureblood, are you not?" Aldrich asked.

"Oh, bloody hell Aldrich of course he would be," Selred said, speaking for the first time through the entire conversation. He opened his hazel eyes, and looked at Aldrich as if staring at a dull portrait; "Why else would Tom associate with him and then why else would he be in Slytherin?"

"Well, Tom's a half-blood and he got in," Romulus mumbled, looking at the ceiling as if with great interest, even thought he was bored waiting.

"Yes, but Tom's got every other quality of a Slytherin, nitwit," Roderick said, "So, are you, Harry?" he asked, looking at said young man.

Harry sighed, dully examining the nails of his left hand as he replied; "My blood's not tainted as far as I know..."

"There you have it, now can these bloody questions end?" Selred asked, "Giving me a bloody headache, they are," he groaned.

"Well, sorry for being curious, Selred," Aldrich drawled; "Perhaps next time we'll just send owls with surveys?"

Roderick, Romulus, and Harry all tried to suppress snickers, while Selred only sneered; "Yes, do," he warned; "But make sure you spell the name's right and correctly label them all. Wouldn't want your threats to get sent to the wrong people when you sent out the rest of your mail, now would we?"

The room became deathly quiet, before Harry burst out laughing. It made him think of Snape trying to belittle Lucius, a sight that would have attracted crowds from the Americas and the Far East. The quartet stared at him, gazes of mixed emotions like that of confusion, amusement, and slight caginess. But again, Harry ignored it, clearing up his laughter and straightening up. He wiped his eyes, and looked at them all.

"Sorry," he said, cracking a smile; "It just reminds me of two idiots I know," the smile faded though, like it always did; "What? Don't you all laugh?"

"Not like that!" Romulus said, before throwing his head back and laughing the same, barking laugh.

It panged Harry's heart to hear it; the sound reminded him so much of Sirius that it caused anger to boil in his very blood. Flashes of the night Sirius died crossed Harry's vision and mind, and Harry willed them away. But the anger was still there. The malice was, as well. IT was always there, if not always underlying...

Luckily, none of the quartet had noticed; "Well," Aldrich drawled, rising; "We should best head out to—"

Before he could finish, there was a loud, sharp tapping. All looked around, and Harry spotted the creator of the noise. At the window at level with the ceiling, there was a tawny owl. It was pecking at the window vigorously, and Harry saw that it had a parcel attached to its leg.

"What the hell is that?" Tom asked as he came from the bathroom, dressed in traditional casual wear and clean cut, as usual.

Romulus pointed to the window, and Tom looked. Harry, staring at the window, held his hand up. Manipulating his fingers as if he were opening a latched door, and eyes never leaving, the window swung open, and the owl flew in, hooting indignantly as it did. The owl flew over Harry, circling around to land at his feet. Wordlessly bending down, Harry stroked the bird's head as he untied the small box from its leg, and as he stood the bird flew back up and through the window.

"That has got to be the most astounding thing I've ever seen!" Romulus exclaimed, first to be the one to recover from shock; "Harry, how the hell could you do that? And without a wand!" he gasped, looking at Roderick, who was staring at Harry as though he were staring at a ghost.

"Well with no wand what was I supposed to do?" Harry asked as he inspected the box. He went over to the couch, Romulus jumping up to give him space. Harry glanced at him, and as he looked back at the package the others gathered around him.

Harry opened the box, to find a small scroll atop a small pouch. Taking the scroll, Harry quickly read it.

_Dear Harry,_

_Within the pouch is money to tide you over until your stay comes to an end. Do not worry about repaying me, that will be worked out once we have contacted your guardians in France. In the mean time, you have been officially placed in Slytherin, and your class schedule shall follow Mister Riddle's. Books are being brought in for you as we speak, and they should be in by evening. I suggest you buy clothing, as your luggage, consequently, did not complete the journey with you._

_Best of luck to you,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry snorted as he read the letter, then set it aside; "Well, how much money is there?" Roderick asked.

Harry took the silk bag out of the box, and opened it. He gasped. Gold glittered up to his emerald eyes, silver as well. "Look at that," Romulus commented; "Looks like Dumbledore sent you galleons and sickles."

"Yeah, he did," Harry said, taking a galleon from the bag; "Perhaps this won't be such a bad stay after all," he smirked, looking around at them all; "So, you all have a tavern, correct?"

The Slytherins all exchanged looks of mirth, and Aldrich was the first to reply; "Of course we do," he drawled; "Where else would we spend our weekends?"

"To the _Three Broomsticks_, then!" Romulus said happily, "Come on, you lot, let's go! Harry buys the first ten rounds!"

They laughed, and Harry said; "I don't think so. Perhaps the first round, but the first _ten?_ Wouldn't you pass out from that many Butterbeers?"

"Now you see, Harry," Tom said; "Romulus and Roderick both hold the records of twenty-seven Butterbeers each. They could go through _fifty_ rounds before it got to them."

"Then it's settled!" Aldrich said richly; "To Hogsmead!"

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

**A/N**

Well, there you have it!

(1) ummm just a place I made up.

Review if you like!


	4. Test the Senses

A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

And know that I have not copied, nor stolen, any story. I have only posted 3 chapters, who are you to say you know my story? I have many things in store for our young Harry Potter and our Dark-Lord-To-Be. I HAVE NOT STOLEN ANYTHING. I haven't read any Tom/Harry stories, either, just so I won't get ideas. The same is for FD&F, no Harry/Draco Vamp. stories AT ALL.

**BTW, RATED R SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER!**

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

**Chapter Four: Test the Senses**

The coach ride had been tumultuous and full of antics, ending with Romulus toppling out of it with Selred on top of him. The Black had been attempting to grope the Snape the entire ride, ending with Selred shoving him into the door and both falling out. Harry laughed, the majority of the time he spent being quiet and taking it all in. the group was really just that, an association of friends who enjoyed each other's company. Roderick and Tom continued conversing about Quidditch as they jumped out of the coach, avoiding the two other Slytherins still sprawled on the ground, Selred pulling ruthlessly at Romulus's hair as he rose. Romulus was only grinning wickedly, as if ready and enjoying the pain. Harry only rolled his eyes he got out, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking around.

Surely he had expected a difference, yet Hogsmead was the same. The same shops, same cozy houses, everything. It seemed the small magical town was locked in a time frame. Harry sighed; at least he was familiar with it.

"Harry, you appear to have a bad habit of daydreaming," came Tom's sarcastic yet humorous voice, drawing Harry from his reverie. He was slightly irritated at this; his mind was a place he retreated to, and it was not a place he liked to leave on someone else's accord. But Tom was merely smirking at him, and Harry couldn't stay mad for long. There really wasn't a point.

"Come along, Tomelson, Riddle!" Aldrich called. He, Roderick, Selred and Romulus were already outside the tavern. Tom and Harry hurried to catch up, and the six went in.

"Go get the Butterbeers, Harry!" Romulus said enthusiastically, shoving Harry towards the bar.

"Oh aren't you just courteous!" Harry said sardonically as he went. He approached the bar, flagging down them maid; "I need six Butterbeers," Harry told her.

"Where ya sittin', dear?" the woman asked kindly, smiling; "Ooh, you've got to be related to Otto Potter!" she suddenly exclaimed; "Could swear on it that ya are!"

"Um, I'm not, Madame," Harry said, "I'm visiting; I'm not even from England. My company and I though, are sitting…" he turned around to see that Tom and the others had taken a table near the large stain glass windows, and then faced the barmaid again; "By the stained glass windows."

"Oh, alright then, that'll be nine sickles and five knots."

/Wow, things are cheap/ Harry thought as he pulled the money from the pouch and handed it to the barmaid. He then returned to the table, walking over and sitting down between Roderick and Tom. Aldrich and Selred were currently bickering over the outcomes of their tests from earlier yesterday, while Romulus was gone, over at another table talking to a gaggle of girls.

"Ever the lady's man," Roderick muttered, and Harry looked at him. "Romulus is quite the '_God'_, if you know what I mean," Roderick clarified, and Harry nodded.

"Yes, now, why we're here," Tom said; "Aldrich, for Merlin's sake, both of you know you'll pass with flying colors," he chided, and the two looked at him, disdainfully for being drawn from their argument. Harry smirked and covered his mouth with his hand to hide it.

"Quidditch season is on it's way," Tom said, "And with three spots open, we'll need to hold try-outs soon."

"Well, honestly it's just two chasers and a beater," Selred remarked languidly; "Those positions aren't hard to fill at all."

"Who's on the Quidditch team?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Oh, Tom's the captain and keeper," Roderick replied; "I'm a chaser, and Romulus is beater. Damn and then there's the seeker position that's open!" he exclaimed; "How could you forget that one position, Tom?"

"I could take it," Harry offered; "They say I can fly well, and I've got the reflexes necessary for the position," he added with a drawl.

"We'll leave that to the try-outs, then, shall we?" Aldrich said, then he turned as they were given their drinks, "Ah, Butterbeer…"

Harry held his mug in his hands, watching the golden nectar. He looked around, watching as Roderick downed his easily, sighing afterward. Harry's eyebrows rose at how quickly it had come and gone. He began to drink his.

"Well, Harry," Aldrich said; "Tell me, how were you able to perform such an amazing feat of wandless magic?"

"Well, I've done it before," Harry said idly; "It's a shocking thing over here, I take it?"

"Well, yes," Roderick said; "Not many wizards or witches can. You cast a spell and it didn't even make you break out into a sweat."

"Well, should it?" Harry asked, perplexed.

Aldrich laughed, "Oh, you're quite oblivious, aren't you?" he asked, amusement in his slate eyes.

Silently, Harry nodded, drinking his Butterbeer again. Then, he shrugged; "Well, not really," he said; "People don't bother the dim-witted."

"Ah, so it's all an act?" Selred inquired; "That would explain Romulus's behavior, wouldn't it?" he asked the group, and Tom shook his head.

"Oh, Romulus acts that way _naturally_," he said, "Now, about your clothing situation, Harry," he looked at the boy in question; "You could be measured at the robe store, and then they would compile a closet of clothing for you, of your liking, of course. Dumbledore said he'd already taken care of your books and supplies. So—"

"You'll never believe what I have heard, gents!" Romulus suddenly interrupted, plopping down in an empty seat at the table looking excited; "There's to be a party located in the Fourth Tower this fine eve at eleven! And guess who got us all invites!"

"I've heard about that party for ages," Aldrich drawled, and Romulus glowered at him.

"Well, I got the password," he muttered, then his mood perked up when he looked at Harry; "And _you'll _be there," he said.

"Well of course I will," Harry said, "I wouldn't miss out on any party. Besides, what would you expect me to do, lounge about the Commons all evening?" he snorted; "Honestly."

Again Harry's testimony brought Aldrich to chuckles, and Roderick smirked. Romulus smirked, sitting back; "Ah, butterbeer!" he said jovially, taking his mug; "A toast to us!"

"Here-here! I second it!" Selred said, raising his mug.

"To the Slytherin Six!" Roderick said loudly as the mugs clanged together.

As they six idly talked and drank, Tom's face suddenly became smug, his eyes narrowing as he glared. Harry noticed this, drawing himself from one of Roderick's jokes; "Tom, what is it?" he asked.

"Potter," was all the Slytherin said, eyes never leaving their spot.

Harry followed Tom's gaze, and his eyes mentally widened. There stood someone he resembled greatly, save for the cropped brownish hair and the hazel eyes. At his side was a young woman, and Harry gasped. _McGonagall?_ Harry thought, blinking. Yes; the same red hair, though free and at the shoulder. A face that he'd seen with wrinkles and grimly set, now carefree and young and pleasant. Brown eyes that had glared and sent students running were now closed in mirth as a laugh escaped. There were others he recognized, as well.

Harry watched as his apparent grandfather ushered Minerva and the others to a free table, the others numbering at about four, before looking over their way. Two of the Gryffindor boys rose from the table at a wave of the Potter's hand, and Harry saw one had sandy brown hair while the other had red hair. They walked over, and Harry set his face as one of indifference.

"Well, you must be the exchange from Beauxbatons," the Potter said, smirking; "I'm Otto Potter," he held out a hand.

Harry leaned forward as he reached to shake the greeting hand, but his part of the gesture was less than courteous, more so he did not want to appear to be too rude. He leaned back into his chair, "Harry Tomelson," he replied simply.

Otto nodded; "Well, what's got you sitting with snakes?" he asked; "Perhaps you'd rather sit with a crowd who wouldn't use you for what you're worth?" he asked, eyes moving heatedly to Aldrich.

"My company is fine," Harry said, "I'd rather be with others like me than others too different."

"Well, the offer is open for you, should you wish to leave your '_company_'," Otto said, now in a death glare match with Aldrich, who was not keen on backing down.

"Perhaps you'd best go, Potter," Tom warned, rising; "I'd hate to kill you here. What would your friends think, to see you beat by a mere _snake_?" he used the own insult in an all-knowing joke he knew would strike the right chords in Otto's angry symphony.

Otto's eyes narrowed; "What place is it yours to say, Riddle?" he asked dangerously.

"What place is yours to inquire?" Romulus quipped sardonically, rising as well; "Picking fights before the rum, Otto? Quite the shocker, if I do say so myself;" yet there was very little humor in the statement, more of sardonic literality.

Harry couldn't help but smirk at the scene. IT was just too amusing to watch hardheadedness combat sheer wit and sarcasm. A defeat for Potter was evident.

"Oh, and you're one who's sober at _any_ time," Otto retorted, rather brusquely and quickly to Harry's surprise.

"Well, at least I've mastered the anti-Hangover potion; therefore I do not wander into classes half-arse-trashed," Romulus said, glaring.

"I'd retort, but childish games are below me," Otto nearly snarled, before turning and walking away. The two Gryffindors, who had been silent the entire time, glared at the Slytherins before following Potter.

"Well, Harry, sorry you had to meet the resident dunder-head," Selred said, idly watching as he swirled the contents of his mugs; "did somebody lace 'is wit' somethin'?" he asked, speech slightly slurred.

At this, Romulus' face fell; "Damn them all!" he suddenly exclaimed, and was up from the table. The table watched as he went to the Gryffindor Table, jerked up the accomplice of Potter's with the red hair up by the collar of his robes, and roughly dragged him from the Tavern. The Slytherins were silent, before they erupted in laughter.

"Selred, I do believe Romulus fancies you!" Aldrich said as he laughed.

Selred looked around drunkenly as he chuckled, and said; "O' course he :hick: does!"

This brought on more laughter.

* * *

The group returned to the Common Room by nine, bubbly and quite ecstatic. Harry had made sure he didn't drink nearly half as much as the others; he wasn't about to allow himself to slip up just yet and tell all soul and mind. But his speech was slurring. Many of the other Slytherins had gathered, as well, and many drinks were being passed around. There was the faint sound of Latin-American music floating in the oddly thick air, and Harry realized that incense was being burnt somewhere, perhaps the rafters… he craned his head back, but looked back quickly as he felt a tugging at his arm. 

"Harry, come quick, lad!" it was Aldrich; "A charming young lady wishes to dance with you, and I daresay you could decline her…"

"A pretty girl, ya say?" Harry asked in his slurred speech, smirking; "Really…"

"Oi, Geneva!" Aldrich shouted, waving someone over.

Harry's jaw nearly dropped, but he remained composed. A slim, curvy, raven haired beauty walked up to him, her sapphire eyes tinted with a deep purple. She was wearing her school uniform, though the tie was lopsided and her shirt was un-tucked. She walked up to Harry with a small smirk on her pleasant features.

"My, Aldrich, he's handsomer in person," she, Geneva, said, "I'm Geneva. And you must be Harry Tomelson, from Beauxbatons?"

"Um, yes," Harry said, shaking her hand. For good measure, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand. Lifting his head, he revealed a pleasant smirk as well, and asked; "Care to dance?"

"Of course," Geneva said gently, and, hand still in hand, she led him to the dance floor.

Aldrich chuckled as he backed up to lean against a wall, watching his handy work. He glanced around, finally catching who he sought after. Tom Riddle was watching the crowd, his jade crimson-flecked eyes locked on a single pair. Aldrich couldn't help but grin, and he covered the smile with his hand. This was all the proof he needed.

Slowly, Aldrich walked over to his friend, leaning against the wall beside Tom; "A bit jealous, Riddle?" he asked casually, quietly.

"Of course not," Ton said; "I'm disgusted. Why would you let Harry dance with such a whore? I mean, Aldrich, _Geneva Whittleborne_! She'll be humping him before the night is over."

"Oh but of course, Tom, this is just a small test," Aldrich explained; "Is our new friend virgin, experienced, or just as sluttish as Geneva?"

Tom looked at him with a slight glare; "what do you mean, Aldrich?" he asked; "what's it to matter if Harry's had an experience or not?"

"Ah, but that's just it," Aldrich said; "I wish to know if he is gay or not."

"Well, he said so himself he preferred women," Tom said, watching Harry and Geneva again. It was getting heated, Harry holding to her hips while Geneva gyrated against him. This was a dance that majority of the world was yet to know of; it never left the Common Rooms. Yet Harry seemed to know every right move; where to exactly place his hand, when to lean his head down and whisper into Geneva's ear, everything. A small spark of envy flared inside Tom, and he was confused by it.

"Ah, but of course you wouldn't be jealous?" Aldrich asked again, leaning in a little closer.

"As I said before, Malfoy, I am merely disgusted," Tom said; "Why couldn't you have chosen Parkinson's sister? She's promiscuous and far prettier than Geneva…"

"Of course," was all Aldrich said quietly, eyeing his friend. Tom glanced at him, rolled his eyes, and walked away.

Harry was beginning to feel the dance; his legs were beginning to ache, and he was working a sweat. Geneva had opened her shirt during their dance, now showing a black lacy bra supporting her… _well-endowed_ chest. Harry's shirt had been opened as well, revealing his white wife-beater underneath that clung to his form, even when dry. Harry lifted his head to brush his bangs out of his eyes, but as he did, he caught sight of Tom walking out of the common room and up a flight of steps.

"Hey, I'll be right back," Harry said, closing his eyes for a moment as Geneva felt him gently.

"Don't keep me waiting," she whispered sensuously, smiling; suggesting.

Harry smirked; "Wouldn't dream of it," he said, then he made his way out of the crowd.

"Harry, hullo there my boy!" Romulus crooned, walking over and throwing his arm over Harry's shoulder. The Black was obviously drunk, his lopsided grin and hazy eyes told all of this. Harry chuckled as he helped Romulus to a couch, the Slytherin rambling all the way.

"I do hope you're enjoyin' yourself, Harry," Romulus was saying ((A/N: hint, imagine Jack Sparrow's speech when Romulus talks)); "Poor Tom, though, bit of the Green Eyed thing tonight. Wonder if 'e'll ever lighten up and –hick- dance wit' somebody."

"What?" Harry asked as he sat Romulus down, taking the glass shot glass from his new friend.

"'Ey, I wan' it back," Romulus whined, but Harry looked at him sternly and Romulus pouted, crossing his arms over his chest; "Eh, Tom's got eyes for you already," he explained slowly, waving his hand in the air and watching it dazedly; "Already, too, you've on'y bin here wha'… a day?"

Harry stared at Romulus oddly; "Dance with Geneva for me," he said, then he was up the steps.

Harry had to slow, though, for his head began spinning. He stopped for a moment to hear the faint music, and then trudged up the steps. He breathed the password at the oaken door, the snakes hissed at him, and he entered the chambers. Harry saw Tom, slumped over the kitchenette counter, a shot glass with firewhiskey inside it in his hand. He threw his head back as he swallowed all of the liquid in one go, then slammed the glass down as he bowed his head, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Heard you weren't enjoying the party…" Harry asked quietly, unsure of what to do.

Tom jumped slightly, turning his head quickly to gaze at Harry with a wide-eyed expression. But then he settled, and groaned as he turned around and rubbed his eyes. He turned and leaned against the counter, scooting the bottle of firewhiskey behind his back as he did.

"Harry," he said, looking up with a slight, half-hearted smirk. His cheeks were red; he was hammering up; "Enjoying yourself?"

"Of course," Harry answered; "Tom… why are you…?"

"What? Drinking?" Tom asked, "Caught me, I suppose," he said, taking the firewhiskey bottle in his hand; "Strong stuff, this," he said, sloshing the amber contents around in the green glass as he idly watched it. The bottle was nearly empty; he'd downed three-quarters of it in less than twenty minutes. _New record_, he thought morbidly.

"Had a bit too much, myself," Harry said, walking over languidly and plopping down on the couch unceremoniously. He stretched out on the couch; his head leaned back against the armrest to watch Tom upside down. Harry gave him a lop-sided grin, and Tom chuckled.

"I'm drunk," he admitted, setting the bottle down and walking over; "Dead wasted."

"Perhaps now you'll speak simply?" Harry inquired, though he too, was drunk, and his speech was wasted.

Again, Tom chuckled, almost laughing when he replied; "Yeah, guess so."

Harry sat up as Tom went to the loveseat to the right of the couch, and watched the Slytherin move. Harry knew he was drunk when he felt a familiar stirring in his lower torso. Tom's shirt clung to his slim yet muscular frame delicately, his pants not too tight, not too loose, enough for the imagination. Tom sat down, and sighed as he leaned back.

Harry smirked as he stood, walking over to stand in front of Tom. For a moment, emerald eyes met bleeding jades, and then Harry bent down, one hand going to Tom's knee. Tom's breath hitched as he stared into the emerald depths, lost in them. Harry smirked.

"Tell me, Tom," he breathed, "Ever felt what's it's like to share a kiss with the same gender?"

"N-No," Tom said nervously; "I haven't…"

Again, Harry smirked; "Care to find out?" he asked.

_Oh gods we're both wasted_, Tom thought giddily, smirking; "Why not?" he said quietly, and Harry leaned in.

Their lips met and both felt a surge of something, not hormones, but emotion. It was dark and decrepit, ancient yet new. For a second Harry hesitated, but he'd gone so far already that he couldn't turn around. Squeezing Tom's knee he traced his tongue along Tom's bottom lip. And to his surprise, Tom opened his mouth slightly. Harry then tasted peppermint and firewhiskey, a combination that made him crave. Soon he had crawled no top of Tom's lap, the Slytherin pulling him closer as the kiss intensified.

When air became necessary both broke away, Tom gasping quietly; "_Damn_," he breathed, eyes wide as he looked at Harry.

"Better than kissing a woman?" Harry asked nonchalantly, idly wrapping his hand around Tom's neck.

Tom shuddered at the contact; "This is far from right," he said quietly, closing his eyes.

"How can something you enjoy be wrong?" Harry murmured, "I want you," he breathed into Tom's ear, before resting his face in the crook of the Slytherin's neck.

"We're drunk as hell, Harry," Tom persisted, though he wasn't about to move the pristine Adonis from his lap and arms.

"Then let our inner demons have some fun, Tom," Harry whispered, sighing. His hand slowly moved down Tom's arm, and he shuddered.

"God knows it's a sin," He insisted still. There was something wrong.

Harry just lay there, sighing. Something just did not feel right. He was beginning to sober up; he didn't want to; "Must you be so mature?" he asked quietly, lifting his head and looking at Tom; "Honestly, give in to your hormones…"

Tom opened his eyes and smirked; "If I were to do that, many would not be around now," he said clearly, before laying his head back.

Harry sighed; "So… you're saying you're a virgin?" he asked coyly.

Tom's head snapped up and he appeared outraged; "Of course I'm not," he stated roughly; "Why would you ask that?"

"Because you're acting like one," Harry said, getting up. But as he rose, Tom grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down.

"I'll show you virgin, Harry," the Slytherin breathed, and Harry saw a fire in Tom's eyes that he reveled in.

"Ooh, so the turtle _can _come out of his shell," Harry said, smirking. He then proceeded to kiss Tom, gently leaning the young man back onto the couch as he did…

* * *

Tom groaned quietly as he awoke with a headache, opening his eyes slowly. Instantly he felt a slight, burning pain in his thighs and buttocks, as well as his arms and back. Tom was about to move when he felt something wrapped around his upper torso… an arm. Panicking for a moment, Tom craned his head back, but it bumped into another. He went rigid, but groaned with the pain of his thighs. 

"Damn," he moaned hoarsely at his realization, and this caused his bed partner to wake.

"Hmm wha'?" Harry mumbled as he raised his head; "Aw damn what a headache," he moaned, but then he saw Tom roll over so that both were facing each other; "Tom?"

"Harry?" Tom asked, sitting up; "What… did we…?"

Harry looked around as he sat up, rubbing his temple; "Damn," he said dully, "we did," he looked at Tom; "What… what will we do?"

Tom looked away, shaking his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and held his face in his hands; "I don't know," he moaned through his fingers.

Harry looked at his hands, flexing his fingers weakly. His head was killing him, the room smelt of sex, he was dirty, Tom was dirty and in pain, physical and emotional, and Harry was to blame. Or so he thought. Tom, on the other hand, was quickly reliving the night, and steadily forgetting to regret it. He sat up and looked at Harry, almost aphetically.

Almost.

"We'll do nothing," he said solemnly; "It's as if it never happened."

Harry looked down, memories crossing his vision as well; "Tom, wait," he said as Tom headed to the door; "Hold on."

Harry climbed out of bed and went to him, and embraced him. Tom stood there for a moment, rigid and stiff. He was not about to embrace someone at this time.

"I'm sorry," he heard Harry whisper as the young man stepped away; "I… you replied, and… and you said…"

"That I wanted you to fuck me," Tom finished bitterly; "I know, Harry. It was I who consented; it was I who allowed you to take me…"

"But, you said that you…"

"Weren't a virgin? Yet another lie. But now, I suppose it is the truth."

"If you had only told me…"

"I thought that you wouldn't want to continue, but you prodded at me in a way no one else had and I lost control! Damnit, I lost control!" he shouted, then after slamming his fist against the nearest wall, he left for the bathroom, leaving Harry alone in the bedroom.

And Harry hung his head and his shoulders drooped in shame.

* * *

The water was cold as ice and sharp as heavy rain, but Tom did not care. He bowed his head against the onslaught, leaned against the tiled wall and let it wash over him. With a sudden sound of frustration he grabbed the soap and began scrubbing himself raw, desperate to get the feeling away form him. He had a horrible headache, pains that came in nagging, subtle waves through his lower body. But even as he scrubbed, the pain didn't seem important. Even in his drunkenness he'd enjoyed the night, Harry was experienced and wasn't rough, even when he had been desperate for the final fuck. 

Sighing Tom set the soap down, and sat down on the small bench. Reaching over he warmed the water, and held his head in his hands. He watched the water spiral down the drain as he thought back on the memories of the orphanage, the horrible Muggles, what had happened there.

"No," Tom said firmly, closing his eyes and shaking his head at the memories; "Not again."

He felt taken now, like in the end, he had been raped. Not physically, but mentally. He'd been allowed something he thought he didn't want, didn't care for, didn't need. He felt differently now, oddly lightheaded through his hangover. Was he… happy? Relaxed? Contented?

Tom jumped up as he heard the door open, and was thankful that the glass was fogged up. "Tom?" it was Harry, quiet and respectful; "We need to talk," yes, maybe quiet and respectful, but firm as well.

"Why should we?" Tom asked sardonically as he took the soap up again and began washing his arms normally. The soap stung at his reddened flesh, but he ignored it.

"Because, this cannot be swept under the rug. I don't believe I can ever handle not clearing this up. It's either the guilt or the shame that will kill me."

"Oh, you're ashamed?" Tom opened the door slightly, and poked his head up. Harry had pajama pants on, loosely; they hung around his waist... _Why would I notice that right off the bat?_ Tom thought instantly.

"Yes, ashamed of _myself_," Harry explained; "I know better than to take advantage of anyone… I'm sorry," he admitted.

Tom looked down, averted his softening gaze; "You didn't take advantage…" he murmured, before going into the shower and shutting the door.

"What?" Harry asked.

Tom rolled his eyes and said loudly; "You didn't take advantage!" he paused, then continued softly; "I didn't mind. I… I enjoyed it… greatly…"

"I want to make it up to you, Tom," Harry said, coming up to the shower; "I'm not asking for a second go to get it right, I'm asking for a night out, to start over formally."

Tom wiped away some of the fog, meeting Harry's eyes; "Why should I bother?" he asked; "It was a fuck, a shag, that's all."

"It meant more than that to you, I know that," Harry said; "I saw it in your eyes when you looked at me earlier… I know what it's like to have that stolen from you, I can't believe I did it to you…" he looked away, surprised at himself for the testimony.

Tom looked at him; "Harry," he began, but stopped. What could he say? Could it be that Harry was just as much a tortured soul as he was? What must have happened to cause such conviction?

Harry looked up at him; "I was seven," he said, as if reading Tom's very mind; "a friend of my uncle's stole my innocence. My uncle _watched_. I have never forgiven him, I don't intend to. I swore that I would never do that. And since I have, I feel no greater than the bastard who did it to me. I feel dirty, aberrant, inhuman, _betrayed_. I might not be an angel, but my morals are clear and profound as the fog is to this glass;" he gently laid his hand against the cleared glass, and his eyes were fixed on Tom's eyes as he whispered; "Please except my apology, Tom. I would feel a little better with myself if you did."

Tom stared at Harry, his eyes gentle and awash with understanding and respect. His face was detached, though, save for the way his mouth was slightly parted to let air into his lungs. Slowly, he raised his hand, and pressed it against the glass in line with Harry's. Harry stared, thankful that Tom was forgiving. He looked at the Slytherin to see a small, gentle smirk on the handsome features, and in turn he slightly smiled as well.

**TBC**

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long, I've just bin so busy! Anyway, chapter 4! Hope you all enjoy it! Chapter 5 will be up as soon as possible!


	5. Lost Souls

A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

**Chapter Five:Lost Souls**

Harry left the bathroom and Tom finished up, then he got out of the shower. After drying himself off, he darted into his closet, and got dressed. Harry got into the shower, taking in a set of clothing with him. Both got ready in silence, if they passed they didn't say anything. It was as if nothing was wrong, no fight had occurred, they had slept in separate beds, even.

Harry went into the den first, sitting down on the couch and watching the fire. He looked around, idly, as if he had before but hadn't really cared at first glance. But it was just a den, and quickly Harry lost interest. He rose, and languidly walked over to the kitchenette. He opened the small icebox, and found nothing but liquor, mostly fire whiskey. Harry shook his head as he closed the door.

"Find anything, Harry?"

Harry turned around quickly to see Tom buttoning up his shirt as he walked out of the bedroom. Tom eyed Harry, carefully, calculative with his observation. But satisfied that the young man of the future was merely nosing around out of curiosity, Tom lost the stern gaze.

"Ready to go to Hogsmead?" Tom asked, grabbing a coat from a hook on the wall. He took another down as well and tossed it to Harry. Harry caught it, and nodded.

Putting on the coat, Harry followed Tom out into the common room. Not many Slytherins were out; most were still asleep, or in the bathrooms paying homage to the porcelain gods that resided there. For once Harry was proud that he could hold his alcohol.

But Harry's eyes soon found the back of the person he followed. Strong shoulder blades beneath the coat, then a thin, lean back, then… Harry shook his head as he began to lust for Tom again. He swallowed his want; he was not about to screw up. But then, he was a teenage boy with raging hormones…

Tom could feel Harry's eyes on him, knew where they had landed. He smirked inwardly, amazed at the sexual appeal he possessed.

"We still need to get your clothes," Tom said, turning his head back and looking at Harry; "Carriages leave at ten. It's nine-thirty now. Do you want to eat in the Great Hall, or perhaps grab something to eat once we get to Hogsmead?"

"Um, Hogsmead, if that's okay," Harry said quickly, matching pace with his companion.

"Of course it is," Tom said; "I much rather prefer Hogsmead to this hellhole any day."

"Hellhole?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Tom said, looking down at his feet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He quickly looked up though as a group of fifth years rounded the corner ahead of them. They were all girls, and giggled and whispered as Harry and Tom passed. Harry glanced back, but Tom only smirked.

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously, looking at Tom.

"I know those girls," Tom said simply; "They run a small little paper here, and they always devote a page to an annual rating they give of all the best looking chaps here."

"And they were giggling because…?"

Tom smirked as he shrugged; "Well naturally," he said, "I've been within the top three for thethree years."

"Top three, eh?" Harry said, looking up and stopping.

They were in the foyer outside of Great Hall, and he stood bathed in green. Tom stopped as well, and turned around. Upon seeing Harry, he had to pause. The green set off the young man's eyes, bringing out a hidden fire in them. He really did look well in House colors. Tom coughed as he felt a familiar stir in his groin. He looked away, but could feel Harry's eyes on him.

Harry stared at Tom. He knew that the other young man had been staring as well, and he sighed with exasperation and defeat. He had already messed up horribly, and for once, he was seeking a relationship after the sex. Tom seemed to be a companionable person. Already, he was having trouble seeing the evil Voldemort. He was beginning to lose the loath he felt for Voldemort. This Tom Riddle did not yet know what he had done, or what he was going to. Harry was still very unsure of why Tom would become Voldemort. Yes, Tom had a hatred for certain things, Harry could tell, but it did not seem to be any hatred great enough to promote a madman. But then again, skin may be thin but it's not transparent…

"Think we could catch an early carriage?" Harry asked quietly.

"Hmm?" Tom asked, looking at Harry, "Oh, probably not. But, we could take a walk around the lake, to pass the time."

Harry nodded, and together they left the school and entered the outside. It was a crisp and chilly morning, but coats were sufficient enough. Tom and Harry walked down the path, the lake in plain view, yet they did not speak. Though still tense, the air seemed to hold a bit of serenity, and their companionable silence seemed just as well.

They reached the lake, and stood a good distance from the edge. A giant tentacle rose out of the water and seemed to greet them as it waved slowly back and forth before submerging again. The wind blew around them, brushing up leaves to circle in a short tornado of gusty air. Harry watched the rippling water; watching how small waves splashed the earth and left a faint outline. Tom watched the sky, and with amusement he saw to crows sparring midair.

Harry glanced at Tom, and then took a step towards the young man. Tom noticed but acted as if he had not. Harry stepped closer yet again, and tentatively he took Tom's hand in his own.

"You do know how sorry I am, right?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the rippling water.

Tom only squeezed his hand and looked at the water as well. Harry inwardly sighed; though he felt forgiven, he still felt obligated to fix the damage. But his thoughts were dispelled when they heard laughter coming down the path. Quickly Harry and Tom separated, Harry stepping forward a bit, Tom backing away.

It was Otto Potter and the redheaded young man from earlier. They were joking and laughing, both carrying brooms, but when they saw the two Slytherins, they quieted and set stony glares into their eyes.

"Riddle," Otto muttered as the two Gryffindors walked up.

Tom's eyes narrowed as he glared at him; "Potter," he all but hissed.

Harry stood with his back to the encounter, but turned anyway and walked over to Tom.

"Ah, Otto is it?" he asked calmly, holding out his hand to his unknowing grandfather.

Otto looked at Harry's hand, then shook it; "Yes," he said, voice softer and glare lost as he looked at Harry; "This is Roger Weasley, by the way," Harry nodded and shook the redhead's hand; "So,"Otto said, smirking; "Survived your first night in the den, eh?" he asked with mirth, he and his friend chuckling.

But Harry was not amused; "Well, I would hardly call it a _den_, per se," he remarked smoothly, "But yes, I have, and I can't complain."

At this, Otto and Roger stopped chuckling, and Harry smirked a bit; "You'll find that I rather enjoy the company of others who are at my level of society." he said

"_Level of Society_?"Otto repeated, flabbergasted; "Well, Tomelson is not the regal name, now is it?"

"That is not my mother's maiden name, but she was one of fine class," Harry said; "Now, Otto, I would rather be acquaintances than enemies, wouldn't you agree? But please do not insult the house mine and my friends. No need for things to get ugly, eh?" he mimicked Otto on the last phrase, chuckling.

"Oh _ha-hah_,"Otto sneered; "You know Tomelson, I held out hope that you had just been _misplaced_ when you arrived here, but I see that once again, the sorting hat hasn't failed yet."

"Sorting hat? What sorting hat?" Harry asked innocently; "I _chose_ Slytherin, Otto. Now, if you don't mind, you interrupted an important conversation Tom and I were having." Harry looked at Tom and nodded once before purposefully shoving between the two Gryffindors.

"I warned you, Tomelson,"Otto whispered as he passedHarry and paused; "Stay away from Slytherin, else you risk death." his eyes lingered on Tom, threateningly, almost, but Tom did not falter. He only looked back apathetically.

"Like a lion should worry about a snake," Roger sneered.

"Oh, but it's the snakes that kill ever faster, Weasley," Tom remarked, and then he went to catch up with Harry.

- -

"Harry! Harry! Slow down, it's not like you're off to war!"

Harry stopped, turning to see Tom walking up to him. HE smirked and watched as the Slytherin Walked up to stand beside him, a look of pure elation in his smirk; "You know, Potter will have you on his list for sure by now. Hmm, and under an entire day," he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin as he looked at he sky; "I do believe it's a record."

Harry laughed; "A record? Since when do you keep track?"

Tom shrugged, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets again and staring ahead; "Look, carriages," he said, "Let's catch one."

"I feel like being immature," Harry said with finality, and without warning, he smacked Tom's shoulder and started running, shouting; "YOU'RE IT!"

Tom blinked for a moment, then the action registered and laughing he followed. He chased Harry around the front yard. Harry laughed as he went back down the path a bit, darting into the forest and hiding behind a tree. He sighed when he thought he had lost Tom but when two strong arms wrapped around him he knew he was wrong. Tom came around to face Harry, and Harry found himself against the tree.

"I believe I've caught you," Tom whispered, his nose a mere two inches from Harry's.

Harry felt Tom's breath on his face and neck and shivered; "No, now I'm supposed to be it," he said quietly, smirking.

"I still have to tag you," Tom said and closing his eyes he then closed the gap between them.

When warm lips met his own Harry closed his eyes and gave in, opening his mouth slightly. Tom's tongue plundered Harry's mouth, and he pressed himself against Harry. Harry felt a stirring in his groin, could feel the heat from within Tom radiating to him, and he couldn't stifle a small moan. Inwardly Tom smirked as he ran his fingers through his partner's hair with one hand and held the tree with the other as he grinded into Harry's groin. Harry gasped and broke the kiss as he leaned his head back. Tom sucked and kissed at Harry's neck, pushing back jacket and collar to get a chance at Harry's collarbone.

Harry whispered out a quick spell, and thick trees sprouted from out of the ground around them, giving them ample cover. Another spell and things got decidedly warmer. One more and furs appeared.

Tom caught on, and whispered a silencing charm around their new spot. He grinded into Harry again, their erections meeting through all the clothing. It was his turn to moan then, but Harry joined him.

"…Need… you…" he panted, kissing Tom deeply and desperately, "_Now_… need you…"

"As you wish, Harry," Tom said, smirking as he kissed his lover again and stepped away from the tree. He took Harry and gently laid him down on the furs, and proceeded to remover Harry's clothing. Soon Harry was in only his pants, and Tom quickly found himself in the same state. He went tot kissing Harry again, on his lips, his face, his neck, his chest… he moved steadily lower with each passing minute. Harry ran fingers through Tom's short locks, and finally he couldn't stand it.

Harry sat up and brought Tom up by his shoulders. He stared into Tom's eyes, and whispered; "I'm yours."

Tom's eyes widened slightly. He had assumed that things would be reversed, him being the submissive. But Harry was obviously giving the lead to him. He nodded, kissing Harry again and gently pushing him to lie down on the furs again. Soon, they were both naked.

There was no strong love in the sex, only a feeling of want, need, and a feeling of attraction. As Tom connected him and Harry, made them one, he couldn't help but wonder how he had come upon such a beautiful and willing creature. Harry's sudden appearance into his dark and hopelessly lost life had already brought sunshine.

Harry on the other hand, could not believe the act he was partaking in. This time, he was sober, able to conceive rational thoughts. His head was screaming no, that it was tampering with destiny itself. But both his heart and his groin said to let it be, that this… was natural, and fine. As he moaned out Tom's name with his climax, he had to admit he was not feeling bad in any way.

Tom pulled out of Harry and laid down beside Harry, both young men breathing heavily and spent. They held onto each other as thankful lovers would, content with the silence, oubliette the breathing.

"Harry…" Tom said in a breath, propping himself up on one elbow as he lay on his side.

Harry looked up at Tom, and Tom felt as if he could drown in the bright emerald pools. He looked away from them for a moment, and then looked back at Harry; "I…I never thought I would ever need anyone else, for anything. I thought that I could be fine on my own. But you… in only a day… somehow you've reminded me that… I did, I do…" he looked at Harry firmly, not braking the stare; "Harry, I… thank-you."

Harry stared back at him. What had happened? What… had they slept together… again? It was all so fast, so wonderfully bittersweet. Yes, they had! Harry's mind raced. What could he say? He said nothing, only closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. Tom continued to watch him, and uttered the words Harry dreaded to hear, yet had not given them much thought.

"What does this… make us now?"

Harry stat up, wrapping a fur around him, shivering; "I… I'm not so sure, Tom," he whispered, staring off into space, though it seemed he was staring at his own feet.

Tom hung his head for a moment; "This…us… it conflicts with the future, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded, biting his lip as he thought. How could he have done such a thing, and twice?

"How?" Tom asked, sitting up fully and watching Harry intently.

"I've just slept with the enemy," Harry whispered.

Tom's eyes widened; "what, the '_enemy'_?" he asked; "Harry, what have I done to make me the enemy? Harry? Harry!"

"I can't say, Tom, I really can't," Harry said, looking at Tom.

Tom saw how desperately confused Harry looked, and how looking at him made a gleaming realization fill Harry's eyes. Tom was not sure why, but the thought was not reassuring.

He had to know.

"Harry, tell me," Tom said firmly.

"Tom, I can't," Harry whispered, shaking his head; "It would ruin so many things. I… I might not exist should I tell you."

Tom looked away, glaring at a red fur; "I cause death, don't I?" he asked, looking at Harry slowly.

"I… I didn't even hint or say that you could, or would, or did—!"

"But I do, don't I?" Tom asked again, with more force; "I murder, don't I?"

"I can't say!"

"Well it's obvious I do something to you in the future!" Tom said; "I have to have done something horrible for that… that sadness to fill your eyes and touch your skin with bumps!"

Harry hung his head; "No," he said; "No, you don't do that, you shouldn't think…"

"Harry, it's true," Tom said quietly and calmly, looking away again. He sighed; "I become a murderer," he whispered, then he chuckled dryly; "Hell, I already am…"

Harry blinked, staring at Tom. Then it hit him. Moaning Murtle, Harry thought with surprise.

"Tom, you're not," Harry said, wondering how far he could go. He reached out to touch Tom's shoulder, but Tom shied away.

"She was a mudblood, you know," he whispered; "A filthy mudblood, like me…"

"Who are you talking about?" Harry asked with implied confusion.

Tom looked at him; "I think you know, so I'll tell you," he said. "Murtle."

Harry was quiet; "Your snake did it that," he began.

"I ordered it to," Tom said.

"But why? Why would you?"

Again, Tom looked away; "Why should I say?" he asked.

"You seem to need an ear to listen," Harry replied simply

Tom stared at him; "What good would it do, Harry?" he asked, "I'm a lost soul…"

Harry was silent, watching as Tom stood up. He watched as his lover cast his hand over him and Harry found himself clean. So, Tom could perform a bit of wandless magic as well. Tom did the same to himself, and then began getting dressed. Harry did the same, and soon, he whispered the counter spells for everything he'd set up. They were silent until the trees cleared, and then Tom walked over to Harry and held his chin in his hand.

"But I'm a lost soul who's blessed with another," he whispered, kissing Harry lightly on the cheek; "Come, it's only ten forty, there might still be a carriage."

Wordlessly, Harry nodded. They walked back up the path in silence, found a few carriages, and picked one. They rode to Hogsmeade in silence. It was awkward. Both young men sat opposite of each other, both looking out opposite windows. But Harry stole glances at Tom every now and again. He was a mystery, a confused, hopeless mystery. Yet it was alluring, and dangerously so. Harry looked back out the window, but could not concentrate.

The carriage stopped outside of Hogsmeade, and they both climbed out. "Come, I'll show you to the robe store," Tom said, and Harry followed as the Slytherin began to walk off.

About an hour later, Harry emerged from the clothing store with bags he had shrunk down to fit into his pocket. He suggested that he and Tom stop by the Three Broomsticks, and Tom agreed. They went in, ordered a round, and sat at their usual table.

"Tom," Harry said, staring at his butter beer; "About earlier…" he looked at his companion, who was staring back attentively.

"Yes, Harry?" Tom asked quietly.

"I…uh," Harry fought for the words, "I don't think you're a lost soul, Tom…"

Tom looked away, closing his eyes to shake his head; "Harry, Harry, Harry," he said, looking at Harry placidly; "You're enthusiasm is admirable, but, it is a fact I'm come to embrace."

"You shouldn't, Tom," Harry said, "Trust me."

Tom stared at Harry for a moment, then spoke; "If you were any other person, I would laugh. But, you've seen a lot more than I have…"

Harry did not know whether to take that as a complement or as an insult, so he only nodded his head; "There's hope," he suddenly said, "For you, I mean…"

"Tell me Harry," Tom asked, looking out the window as he continued on airily; "Is the future as bleak as I perceive it to be?" once again oddly colored eyes rested on Harry.

Harry did not know how to react. He sipped his butterbeer, then replied; "If it seems so…"

Tom nodded, then he sighed; "Let's talk of better things," he said; "SO, are you ready for the Quidditch tryouts? We're holding them this Wednesday evening."

"I… might pass," Harry said; "I…can't risk too much, Tom, you understand that. If I did, they may find my picture, or read stories, and…" he shook his head; "But I'd be glad to watch."

Tom nodded; "well, let's finish up then head home, I guess…"

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

Please review! 


	6. To Dance with Fate, What a Temptation

A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL!

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

**Chapter Six: To Dance with Fate, What a Temptation**

Sunday went by smoothly and slowly. Harry spent most of the day in the library, memorizing his class schedule and reading some textbooks. Tom and the others stopped by on occasion, but mostly, Harry stayed alone, finding a room on the third floor with a pleasant view of the lake. Around dinner, he decided to pack up, and he ran his things down to his room.

When he opened the door, he found the main room empty, and the bedroom was empty as well. Harry wondered where his roommate had gotten to, but shrugged it off as he put his things away. He made his way to the Great Hall, but things seemed too quiet as he walked through the dungeons, until he caught whispers floating down to his ear. He hid behind a statue, just shy of the stairs leading up to the surface.

"Now, now, Albus! I'm just off to see the boy for a moment! It's not everyday someone _falls through a mirror_!"

"Please, keep your voice down, Horace. The others do not know of how the boy arrived."

"Well, I'll just drop down for a bit—"

A sigh; "Don't badger him."

"Oh, pish-posh, Albus! It's only for a moment!"

And around the corner came the man Harry knew only as Slughorn, younger, but still round in the middle. Harry sighed inaudibly and stepped out from behind the statue, and Slughorn's smile broadened.

"There he is!" the man said cheerily, "So tell me…"

Albus rounded the corner, looking thoroughly tried of the man; "Horace, please," he said, but he smiled when he saw Harry; "Ah… good morning, Harry. Have you adjusted well?"

"Very, thank-you, Professor," Harry said, eyes going from one wizard to the next; "And who are you…?" he asked with mock curiosity.

"Oh! Slughorn, Horace Slughorn," the man said, taking Harry's hand from his side and shaking it. Harry eventually pulled his hand away, taking a step back.

"Do forgive my associate, Harry," Albus said apologetically, running his hand down his face.

"It's quite alright," Harry said slowly, through gritted teeth.

"So, what time do you come from, exactly?" Slughorn asked.

"Uh…" Harry began, but Albus said over him; "I'm sure that's not important, Horace! See, you are already badgering him."

"Oh, ignore him, m'boy!" Slughorn said, throwing his arm over Harry's shoulders and guiding Harry along ash e began to walk towards the stairs; "So tell me, what is the future like? Judging by your hair and you general lack of respect I can only assume you aren't from years past!" he laughed heartily.

"Uh… I'd say I'm definitely not familiar with this generation," Harry said, edging out of the arm around him.

Slughorn turned and faced him; "M'boy, you can tell me! Forgive an aging man for being curious. Say, do you know _me_?"

The man seemed absolutely agitated with curiosity, and it was unnerving Harry; "I uh…" Harry began stepping back.

"Professor Slughorn! Why are you bothering my roommate, eh?"

The good-natured comment came from behind, and Harry turned to see Tom walking over to them; "Ah, Riddle!" Slughorn said, patting tom on the back; "So you're rooming with this mysterious character?"

"Yes, I am," Tom said with a smirk, then he looked at Harry; "Sleep well, Harry?"

Harry smiled, walking over to tom and quickly whispering; "Help!" in his ear.

Tom laughed good-naturedly; "It seems I need to help Harry find the library, Professor," he said to Slughorn; "But I'll see you tomorrow evening at the meeting?"

"Of course, and do bring your friend!" Slughorn called as they began walking away.

Once they had begun walking up the stairs Harry let out a sigh; "Thanks," he said to Tom; "I owe you one."

"Yes, well, I saw you and I had to agree that Slughorn is a tad overbearing," Tom said with a smirk; "So, still need help finding the library?"

"What were you up to today?" Harry asked, stopping and looking at Tom.

Tom stopped as well, turned and faced him; "Attending to business of the private nature," he replied smoothly.

"That's a lie," Harry said.

"Of course it is," Tom retorted; "I don't feel like answering that question."

"Why not?" Harry asked, stepping closer.

"Well, it is my business, not yours," Tom said, stepping ever closer.

"Lovers don't keep secrets from each other," Harry whispered, watching as Tom slightly shivered as his breath ghosted across Tom's ear.

"Ah, but you see, dear Harry, Lovers are just that to each other and nothing more," Tom whispered, and Harry willed his heart not to sink; "Nothing but privacy for lovers."

"What were you doing?" Harry asked again.

Tom sighed; "Research…"

"About…?"

"Things, and that is all I am willing to tell you," Tom said, stepping away; "Care to accompany me to the try-outs?" He asked.

"Sure," Harry said, resigning against getting any other information.

Tom smirked; "Well then, we should head down to the stadium, shouldn't we?"

Harry shrugged; "Actually, I'll catch up with you later," he said; "I uh, need to catch up on the lessons for tomorrow."

Tom arched an eyebrow; "Well, okay then," he said; "See you."

"Yeah," Harry said, watching Tom's back steadily recede as the teen walk away from him; "See you…" the whisper was faint, neglected of feeling.

* * *

A quiet spot was all Harry needed before he sank in to the textbooks scattered on the table around him. As he skimmed the pages he realized how much was left out that he already knew. But he only read what was given and didn't try for more. The sun shown on the yellowed pages and made them gold; the room's musty smell seemed oddly comforting. He felt secluded, cut off from the world around him, the time he had left behind. In the small study in the library he could pretend that he were back home, quietly studying while his friends and the people of his era ran around, living out their lives as he lived his.

_But no one could have a life like Harry Potter, especially, not now… _

A quiet thought struck Harry. Everyone he knew was non-existent. Well, mostly everyone he knew was gone. Even his godfather was but a glimmer in an eye. Harry sighed. He was homesick already. He would never get to celebrate the coming of a new century with his friends, never be able to fulfill his destiny… The thought of never returning was like a headache; throbbing, appearing and going, but there. He was desperate, in a sense, and growing worse.

He rose from his chair and left his things in the study, walking down the rows and aisles of books, scanning the spines for a promising title. But there was nothing. Letting out a sigh, Harry went back to the study and sat down with little grace. Where could he find a book worthy enough of helping him? _Perhaps the Restricted Section_… he thought, scanning the walls in absent thought_… no, I don't have my cloak with me… hmmm that complicates things…_

When he heard the sound of quick whispers, he quickly turned and watched as the door was nudged open, and a familiar head poked through the cracks. Relieved, Harry relaxed.

"Ah, Tomelson, there you are!" Aldrich droned aristocratically, waltzing in with Roderick; "Been looking all over, why weren't you at the try-outs, eh?"

"With your reflexes we were sure you would snag a spot as seeker," Roderick said, sitting down across from Harry as Aldrich did the same.

"Well, I have studies," Harry said casually; "How were the try-outs, though?"

"Oh, fair," Aldrich said; "Could have been better."

"Oh, _much_ better," Roderick added, nodding.

"We were actually expecting you to attend, Harry," Aldrich said with a slight shrug; "But, we can't assume _everything_, no can we?"

Harry caught the glance each Slytherin gave to the other, and leaning back in his seat, he sighed; "What's going on?" he asked slowly, cautiously.

Aldrich leaned forward; "What is going on between _you and Tom_?"

"Yes, do tell us, Harry," Roderick quipped, leaning forward as well.

"I won't dignify that with an answer," Harry said.

"So you _are_ shagging him?" Aldrich quipped, already knowing the answer.

"What, Aldrich, are you _jealous_?" Harry asked coyly, smirking.

Aldrich leaned back, pleased with himself; "I knew it," he said.

"Well, the remainder of what you seek is my personal business," Harry said; "Not just common knowledge."

"But, I _do_ have a question, Harry," Roderick said, and Harry looked at him; "You're not from a pure bloodline, are you?"

Harry bowed his head for a moment, chuckling quietly. When he looked back up he was eerily calm. "Since when has blood stopped anyone from succeeding in life? Here I have made a name for myself, and only just by stepping through the front doors."

"_Or though a mirror…"_

Harry turned to Aldrich, arching an eyebrow; "Quite outlandish for a _Malfoy_, Aldrich," he commented.

"There you go, talking as if you know him!" Roderick said; "You're not normal, Tomelson, so fess up."

Harry gazed at him, unfazed; "Well, I am human, I bleed red," he said, getting up; "As far as you are concerned, I am normal," he gathered his things; "See you at Supper, gentlemen…"

Harry strode out of the room. Aldrich and Roderick were silent until certain they were alone, then they both looked at her.

"Adel was right, Aldrich! He is a flaming queer!" Roderick said.

"Thatgirlfriend of yours," Aldrich said, shaking his head; "What'll we do? He's already moved in on Riddle…"

"And we can't have that, not if we want everything to fall through…"

"Roderick, we have to be sure he is willing…"

"Tom wants power, Aldrich, you know that," Roderick insisted; "The problem is this Tomelson character…"

"Yes, he was not planned on…" Aldrich leaned back, thinking; "We could kill him."

"Kill? Aldrich, please," Roderick leaned back, a little stunned; "I don't want blood on my hands. At least, not while I'm still young…"

Aldrich was silent again; "We need to find out everything we can about Tomelson…" he whispered, nodding; "Yes… _everything_. How he got here, who his family is, what he is entitled to…"

"I think he has nothing, has no one. He's been lying the entire time…"

"Are you sure?"

Roderick smirked; "Of course," he said; "Legilemins hasn't failed me yet."

Aldrich smirked; "Then it's time we found out what was going on here before things spiral out of control."

* * *

Harry quickly placed his books aside on a random shelf and decided to take a stroll, in an effort to clear his head. Later on, he would have to sneak back into the library, try to get into the Restricted Section, but for now, he would try to act like his age.

As he breathed in fresh air and walked down the front steps, he had to think there was some good to his present situation. Here, he was no longer the Boy-Who-Lived; no longer was he the man holding the world on his shoulders. He was simply _Harry_, plain and simple. He was a seventeen year old young man. He attended an esteemed Wizarding school, and had already associated himself with the upper class of the resident social hierarchy. Already, his life was seemingly better than before.

Perhaps the fates _wanted_ him to have a break?

Harry found himself caught by the lake again, the wind blowing against him, ruffling his hair and jacket, but it was found to be oddly comforting, like the smell of the study. Like the wind, he would be here and gone. But the wind made the best of its worth, it wanted to leave a lasting mark. That's why it bent the trees under its gales, made the grasses bow to its will, and rippled the waters to spell its glory.

Harry watched the water's surface. He thought he could faintly see mermaids beneath the surface, performing underwater acrobatics to his amusement. Their pale grey skin and dull blue fins seemed to shimmer when the light bounced off of them. Their hair, long and wavy and flowing with the current, stretched back like sails. They were underwater angels, it seemed, ethereal and majestic, tempting in the fact that they could not be touched or spoken to unless they acted out for you to do so…

Harry said down on the bank, looking over and seeing a red flower in the rush. He was perplexed for a moment about why it grew, but then, he dispelled the thought as his finger ghosted over the soft petals. Gently he plucked one by its stem, and then threw it onto the water's surface.

With fascination he watched as a pale, thin hand stretched up out of the water, fingers spreading to expose thin webbing, and long fingers wrapped around the delicate flower. The plant was dragged underwater, and Harry waited. The ripples that the hand had created slowly receded and the only sound he could hear was the wind rushing past his ears, and the occasional call of a far-off animal.

Then steadily, the same grey hand reached up, this time grabbing a hold of the bank and pulling out the slender body of an attractive young woman. Well, until her navel, at least, upon which navy and black scales took over and a fin was there instead of legs. Her long silvery hair covered her bosoms, and large, neglected black and icy blue eyes stared at Harry, fascinated by him, and possibly by the world she was banished to never be in.

Harry smiled, scooting over. "Hi," he said quietly, and the mermaid sank back into the water in fear, nose and up being the only visible, silver hair pooling around her; a cloud in the water.

"Can you understand me?" Harry asked, scooting ever closer to the water's edge.

The mermaid's head rose above the little. _A little_, she seemed to say, but her mouth never moved.

Harry at once knew she was speaking telepathically, and it made sense. How could one talk underwater? He mentally chided himself, but smiled nevertheless.

"What's your name?" he asked.

He watched as the mermaid brought the flower to the surface, letting the flower float on the water. She looked at Harry, mimicking his smile; _Gillani_(1), she replied.

"I'm Harry," Harry said; "How are you?"

Gillani looked at him, swimming up to the bank and resting against it, head resting on her folded arms though she looked at Harry; _Fair_, she replied; _You_?

Harry shrugged, "The same," he said quietly, "Gillani, do you…" he fought for the right words, then sighed; "May I talk to you? I am very confused, and…"

Gently the mermaid's hand rested on Harry's knee, oddly silky and soft, though damp, against his khakis. Harry stared at the oddly luminescent hand, how her fingers delicately stretched outward, like a fan.

_You humans are always confused_, Gillani said jokingly, a grin on her soft features,_ I will listen and help all I can…_

Harry sighed, and began to tell her his story; "I'm not from here," he began, "I am confused about who is around me... _what_ is around me!I cannot trust anything here it seems. I know some people here, but one person who I am starting to like very much… is my _enemy_ -_bad_- outside of these grounds, beyond this time…"

_Time? You have transcended time, yes?_ The mermaid asked.

Harry had not expected her to use such a word as "transcend", he had been toning down his vocabulary so that she wouldn't be confused, but now he was positive she was very intelligent, possibly smarter than he was. No wonder the Ministry gave merpeople five X's. They deserved respect.

"I have," Harry admitted; "And I could be killing someone by telling you that…" he looked down guiltily.

Gillani looked at him sympathetically; _What happens, happens, Harry,_ she said gently, calmly, her voice echoing in his head in a motherly fashion. _You cannot play God…_

"_God_?" Harry asked, skeptical; "I wish not to discuss faith and religion, Gillani, that subject has never been flattering…"

Gillani shrugged simply, her hand leaving Harry's knee;_ Tell me about the school_, she said, a bony finger pointy at the large castle.

Harry turned back and followed her pointing appendage for a moment, andthen looking at her he replied; "Big, confusing, boring," he summed it up simply; "Full of mysteries and secret passages, crammed full of young wizards and witches with raging hormones…"

Tinkling laughter filled his mind, and Gillani covered her mouth with her hand as she was overcome with a sudden wave of mirth. Harry smiled and chuckled; "Well, it is," he mumbled; "But… I will be leaving it, after the summer comes again…"

_Oh_, Gillani said, nodding; _you wizard's society is very complex, no_?

"Actually, yes," Harry replied, "and in the future, quite disorderly and on the verge of disrepair."

_This news saddens me so_, Gillani said, frowning, _do you have a solution_?

Harry sighed; "..._I_ _'m_ the solution."

_Oh_, she said again,_ martyr?_

Harry nodded; "Not by choice."

_Well, not all martyr's perish_, Gillani said.

"History has proven that they do," Harry muttered.

_My history tells differently, then_, Gillani said smoothly._ It is late, Harry, I must go. This was a good conversation._

As she began to go under ,Harry said; "Wait!"

Gillani stopped, looking at him; "Um," Harry said; "Tomorrow, may I talk to you? I mean, you are the first person, well, creature, er, I mean…"

Gillani smiled; _I understand your stress_.

Her statement was said with such conviction that Harry had to wonder, but he never had the chance. Gillani was soon gone, her flowing hair a receding silver cloud under the water until it was swallowed in the green.

Harry rose, content at his new friend. He had never before talked with creatures from the lake. He had spoken with centaurs and giant spiders, and of course he had spoken with ghosts. But never before had he spoken with a mermaid. And she hadn't wanted anything form him, didn't need to know his life's story if he didn't honor her with it. She was open, innocent, kind.

She was real.

Since Harry had arrived in this new era, his feelings towards others around him were those of distrust and mild paranoia. The paranoia he blamed on his horrible upbringing, nights wasting away under the stairs and he had become petrified of unknown, foreign sounds. But the distrust he gave credit to the leering stares his Housemates passed his way, the general whispers he heard but never recognized or honored them with his reactions, and of course, the forefathers of his enemies. Aldrich especially he held on his watch list. The Malfoy couldn't be trusted, none of them ever could be. Roderick as well he hated with a passion for ever being sired. Harry had noticed Bellatrix already once, and he thought of killing her to solve so many deaths in his time.

But he was overcome with reality and sighed. He couldn't do away with Bellatrix, or Aldrich, or… Tom. He had already altered history enough as it is, he couldn't risk anything, he couldn't tempt fate by offering his hand. Oh but how he wanted to tangle with it, dance with fate and lure it to the side, then quickly slash it down to finish his business. Such would be the demise, and Harry could die happy and old, or dispirited and youthful. Whichever came, he would accept it willingly. But he wanted a final dance with fate, just one final dance to tangle his hand in her wavy hair of spider webs and broken hearts, touch her necklace so tattered lives and feel the soft of her weathered skin…

The picture in his mind was fruitful, promising and a temptation to become reality. Harry shook his head as his feet found the gravel of the garden path. He looked up, for a moment stopping to stare at a statue of a maiden, clearly in mourning. Below her was a small pool of water, pristine and clear, with fish swimming around and under the lily pads that somehow managed to bear life in the numbing cold of autumn.

Harry found a bench and with a sigh sat down on it, sighing and watching his breath form on the air. Looking he saw his reflection and noticed how pale he was, how sad he appeared. His eyes, though full of a fiery color, were somehow melancholy, dull. He had a fierce air about hi, what with his hair constantly in his face and seemingly untamable, his mind always bringing his brow down to furrow, and his general lack of concern for the world around him, though he held it on his shoulders. He really had become somewhat of a dark character over the passing of time, and its quick and sudden reversal.

He knew he should be happy to be alive, to have friends and a surrogate family that loved him unconditionally, He should be happy for his talents, for his faults, for his gifts and for his curses. He should be happy on every basis, and yet he could find no happiness, no solace. His soul stirred in distressed impatience, the want for action and change clawing and scratching and biting and fighting to get out. Desperately Harry wanted to do what he had to, and then go off on his wonderings with no regrets. He longed for a new sunrise over new hills…

Harry rose suddenly, slightly surprised by his action. He heard footfall and quiet talking, and looked to his left he saw Tom and another girl from Ravenclaw, talking animatedly. Harry watched in stony silence, but nothing of the flirtatious or shady nature took place. Harry let his guard down, but only a little, and put on a smirk as he walked over.

"Hello, Tom!" he said cheerily, causing the two to look and smile at him.

"Harry, wonderful to run into you," Tom said just as cordially; "Oh! Harry, this is Cornelia Barefax. She's A Prefect for Ravenclaw. Cornelia, this is Harry Tomelson…"

"Yes, the exchange student from Beauxbatons," Cornelia said as she shook hands with Harry.

Harry nodded; "Well, word travels fast here," he said coolly.

"Well, rumors spread fastest when the whole party agrees that it's worth talking over," Cornelia commented; "I do have a question for you though, Mister Tomelson…"

She spoke as though she were older, as though they were all aging and elderly, past their prime and beyond idle chatter. For sure she was beautiful, with long auburn hair and inviting brown eyes, a soft complexion and a figure that tailored robes accentuated. Sheseemed skilled at how to get her way, at any cost.But somehow Harry did not like her, or trust her. The way she stared and how she spoke gave way to suspected treason, or the threat. But he would not let on any of this, oh no.

"And your question, Miss Barefax?" Harry asked just as smoothly.

"Is it true that you delight in the same gender?"

The question was blunt and obvious, Cornelia had not tried to hide anything or tell it slant. Harry commended her for that quality for it was rare and found once or twice and barely that.

Softly he chuckled, amused; "I daresay my private life is of no concern to the public," he replied smoothly, glancing at Tom.

The Slytherin seemed a bit uneasy by this encounter, and in honest realization, Harry saw him to be a little nervous as well. _Ah, the better to make him squirm_, Harry thought melevolantly.

Cornelia laughed a delicate, tinkling laugh and smiled; "Oh, you are the character, Harry," she said, pausing; "This school is in need of something exciting."

"They say change is a good thing," Tom said, finally stepping in to the conversation.

"Yes, I quite agree, Tom," Cornelia said, "Well, if I'm not mistaken it must be nearly five, and I have a friend I'm supposed to meet. Later, boys," she said, passing between them.

"Nice meeting you!" Harry called, and she waved as she rounded the corner and departed.

"Well, you are quite the people-person," Tom said, smirking.

"I just had to run into you," Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Tom looked at him; "And what's you're problem?" he almost snapped, but tried to control his tone.

Harry shook his head, "Nothing," he said, "Nothing at all."

How his eyelids were hooded, how his general concern seemed devoid in his eyes, it led Tom to worry. Harry seemed distant, heavily burdened, and disheartened. There was so much turmoil, so much passion in those eyes that Tom thought he could be lost in a nightmare. Harry seemed to take notice, and just as quickly as Tom thought to delve into the depths, to dance with fate and tempt risk, the windows were closed and behind them emotions were sealed away.

"Harry," Tom began, but he silenced and sighed; "Tell me."

Harry looked at him, "I spoke with someone today, that's all," he said, looking down and turning gravel with the tip of his shoe.

"And… what did they say?"

Harry shrugged; "First conversations are spread out and vague," he quietly replied; "Nothing of real importance, nothing that could save my life, anyway…"

"Harry…" Tom stepped closer to the other youth, but Harry stepped away.

"The beauty about Lovers are their shameless secrets, Tom," Harry said, numb in feeling but still sending a cold effect; "You of all people should agree on that."

Tom's lips pursed together and he wanted to huff and turn away, but he oculdn't. Harry had practically spat his words back at him. Was he that harsh? Did he cause that much pain in so little an ammount of time?

The thoughts that plagued him, Tom could only wonder. And as Harry's back turned and began to recede, give way to distance, Tom wanted to follow, to wrap his arms around the figure and whisper sweet nothings until peace claimed them both. Sighing out of frustration he lashed out of the gravel, his foot sending a cascade into the flower bed nearby. He ground his teeth together, look left, then right, and departed, leaving the garden behind, an island of summer in fall's cold hands.

From the bushes a figure rustled the leaves, triumphantly standing erect and proud, adjusting his cloak before he too looked around. Making sure the coast was clear, he left the garden, back to his cohorts to retell all that he had learned.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

A/N: her name is pronounce "Gih--ahn-ee" 


	7. Trust

A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL!

but you all might hate me by the end of this hides in fear of flames and rocks

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

**Chapter Seven: Trust**

Harry waited out the rest of the day, and the next. Soon, one week became two, and then two became three. Finally, he had found himself lost in time for over a month. He impatiently waited, hoping that deep in the back of his mind, the potion would wear off and he would fade away, back to his time. But when that hope was denied truth, he resolved to adapt. He spent his time listening and watching, finding out what he could, when he could. He figured out who was who, what was what. And he found himself coming to a bitter conclusion.

The school had yet to change. Society in the castle was still the same, oblate a few decades.

Other than that, he focused on his relationships. He had fast bonded with Romulus and Selred, shocked about the latter of the two. He had expected Selred to be discontent with his presence and overall sardonic, but he was in fact a complete opposite. He was arrogant, like the other Slytherin boys, but he was also intelligent, and witty. Romulus was like Sirius in every manner. Fun loving, good-naturedly, loyal and always up to tricks. But Harry would notice how the two would go off together, normal enough as it were, he still gathered a different perspective.

He and Tom, on the other hand, was another story entirely. After their last tryst, both became reserved and naïve, unsure of what to do, or if it were right to do anything at all. Tom treated him as he treated his other "friends", though Harry thought he alone could have that description. So many people flocked to Tom, eager to have a taste of the young man's power. He was very popular, and handsome, but in the same way, he was not. Often times Harry found him alone in the library studying and ancient text, and when Harry would ask, Tom would simply close the book, smile a coy smile, and give him a simple, believable excuse.

But Harry knew people enough to differ the truth from a lie.

And now, Harry lay in bed, unable to sleep for he was engrossed with nostalgia and poignant thoughts. He missed his home, his friends, and his surrogate family. Now would be the time when Mrs. Weasley would be sending him a letter telling him he was free to come to the burrow, and offer he never dismissed on his own accord.

Tears of regret threatened to escape as he thought about how things were without him. He was not sure if time elapsed in the future as it did now, in the late 40's…

"_The 40's_!" he gasped out, hands balling up in the blankets.

Never in his life did he think he would even think about what once was, let alone now. Brief thoughts flashed through his head. The Muggles were having a bitter world war right now. Were wizards involved? He thought not.

The random thought brought a small snicker out of Harry. Even now, his still pubescent ways lingered. He had always been prone to asking odd sorts of questions, though he had managed to hinder it as the years progressed.

He fell silent when the main door to the small flat opened. It slid slowly shut, and Harry held his breath out of habit. The soft falling of feet was then heard, the rustle of robes being tossed aside, and then…the bedroom door opened.

"Harry? Harry, are you awake?"

It was only Tom. Harry sighed, and rolled over, feigning near-sleep; "Nearly," he mumbled, sitting up on one elbow. "Why?"

Tom was lost for a moment. Harry was shirtless, bathed in the light of a red lamp. In the darkness, he was almost ethereal.

"Er," Tom quickly looked away; "I… I think I might have found something that concerns your arrival."

There eyes met, and Harry sat up; "Really?" he inquired, trying to hold back a childlike cry of joy.

"Um, yes," Tom said, producing a book from behind his back. "May I?" me motioned to he bed.

Harry nodded and Tom sat down on the bed; "We need decent light," he muttered, reaching over and pulling the red shade off of the sconce. The golden light bathed them anew, and then Tom continued; "You see, I found it a mystery as to how you came through the mirror, and through time…" he opened the book, flipping through the pages; "So, when I was not occupied with… other things… I devoted my time to finding a solution. And finally, I came across this…"

Harry looked; "_Temporis tractus, addo reverses_?" he read allowed, passing Tom a look of inquiry; "A bit long for a potion, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, you see," Tom said in a very eccentric manner, scratching behind his ear in a moment of thought; "There in lays its quality. It proves itself complex, and therefore, would follow my theory of your predicament. I assume that it was cruel prank, what brought you here?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a hint of bitterness.

"By people who undauntedly loathe you, would wish you dead?"

Harry's eyes narrowed; "Your point?"

Tom coughed again; "My point is that this potion can have two effects. One is that, after having come into contact with the potion, you touch a flat, reflective surface, like a mirror, or water, and you are thereby transported through said surface to a time of sequential importance. And another is that the potion causes you to digress physically, from the age when you come into contact with the concoction, all the way down until you are nothing more than a passing thought," he stared at the book smugly; "Quite a way to go, I must admit."

Harry glanced at his hand. "I could have _died_?" he asked, shocked.

"Yes, but only if it had been the intent of the person who created the potion," Tom explained; "See, you can add ingredients, take some out and replace them. Originally, the potion is simply _Temporis tractus_, but _addo reverses_ is added to complete the time-travel bit," he looked at Harry; "I hope that this might have helped, incase you were trying to find a way to return…"

Harry stared at Tom, bewildered. Was he trying to please Harry? Perhaps he wanted something… Harry searched the deep, crimson tented pools, but found only sincerity and honesty…

Then again, Tom Riddle was a trickster and a man blessed with parley abilities. He could woo Satan if he wanted.

_Mix the chemicals right dear, mix the chemicals right.  
Yeah the margin of error is slight.  
Mix the chemicals right dear, mix the chemicals right.  
Yeah you know that you could save my life._

"It's wonderful news, Tom, really," Harry said, "Thanks. I was heading down a dead end myself!" he added with a light laugh.

Tom smirked; "Well, I just assumed that it would be helpful," he said, closing the book slowly. His fingers splayed over the beaten cover, and for a moment, he was silent. Then, he looked at Harry; "May I ask you a question, get an honest answer, and then have your promise you will not repeat it to a soul?"

Harry blinked. That was a lot to take in; "I suppose," he said slowly; "What question?"

Tom looked away for a moment; "What do you know of Hocruxes?"

Deep within, he had expected the question, anticipated it even, but when it was brought up, Harry was at a loss as to what to do. He looked about, searching for something; "Well," he said, eyes finally befalling Tom; "I know that it takes a human sacrifice, and it also takes part of the spell caster's soul."

Tom nodded, looking down; "Highly forbidden, I imagine," he commented.

"Highly forbidden indeed," Harry agreed.

_Mix the chemicals right dear, mix the chemicals right.  
Yeah you know there's a fine line between.  
Mix the chemicals right dear, mix the chemicals right.  
'Cause I know what betrayal can mean._

For a time, tense silence occupied them. Harry did not know what to say next, Tom did not want to talk at all. The Slytherin looked at his counterpart. Harry's brow was furrowed as he stared at the bed sheets, deep in thought. He looked too serious, too old, too tired. Certainly not the disheveled, curious Harry Tom had grown close to.

What was he thinking? Bonding of this sort was something Tom had forbidden himself to ever experience. But he could not help it. Without sex, and his duties as Harry' Guide, Tom had been exposed to another Harry. A smart, cunning, heartrending version of the Adonis he longed to sleep with.

Harry's gaze softened, his hand relaxed, and he looked up at Tom with a confused sort of look in his eyes; "Tom…" he said quietly.

"Hmm?" Tom hummed, looking at him expectantly.

"I…" Harry began, and then he stopped.

"What was that?" Tom asked, leaning down; "Didn't hear you…"

"I…" Harry whispered, but then he could speak no more for Tom had closed the gap in a frenzy of need and lust.

His lips crashed against Harry's and sent the young man to his back. Tom swiped the book away and began to ravage the other boy's mouth, and Harry let him. Tom had such a way with his tongue and lips, he could not resist…

When Air beckoned, they separated; "Tom, wait," Harry said as Tom began to kiss his exposed neck and collarbone.

"What is it?" Tom breathed, breath ghosting over the olive skin and fresh red marks. His eyes flicked upward at Harry, waiting though impatient.

"We… we can't, Tom," Harry said; "It's too risky…"

"Risky you say, risky you _want_," Tom said in an eccentric manner, beginning to kiss here and there once more.

But Harry drew himself from the animalistic need. Pulling Tom up to where their eyes met, the Slytherin saw naught but seriousness; "No one can know save us, Tom," Harry whispered; "No one."

Tom knew he implied the future he had yet to know. Swallowing a knot in his throat, he nodded.

"If that is what you wish, Harry," he whispered.

_Will I trust you; will I trust you to carry me through?  
I will trust you, 'cause I know what a promise can do._

Harry nodded, and soon their resumed with their endeavor of need.

* * *

"_Quick, dear! They're here!"_

"_I know, I know! Hurry, up the stairs and find a place for you to hide!"_

"_But, but James…"_

"_No, Lily! Go!"_

_The scream, how she had pleaded… it meant nothing, nothing at all to that horrid green light. And then the sudden feeling of cold, cold all around. He was scared, what was happening? Where was daddy? And mama, why was she not moving? He tugged at her hair, crawled to her hand, and looked up to hear the most malevolent laughter._

"_And now," the figure, his nightmare, dark and omniscient._

"_You, boy." _

_Steadily, his wand rose, it glowed, it flashed._

_Green, green everywhere. Everywhere!_

…_Mama?_

Tom gasped as his eyes snapped open. He sat up, breathing heavily, hand on his chest. It had been so vivid, so real. What had brought about such a dream as that? He was at a loss. It was certainly not a memory of his own.

Tom glanced down at Harry, who lay slumbering, unawares. At the sight, Tom calmed, and this allowed him to think. The woman's scream still rang in his head, like a banshee's, and the man… his face…

He looked like Otto Potter. He looked like _Harry_…

Tom leaned down, brushing Harry's hair back to reveal the candid scar. He was tempted to touch it, but then, before he did, his hand shied away. Something told him, deep inside, that it was not in his favor to do so. Still, the _temptation_…

Letting out a frustrated groan, Tom settled back down beside Harry, taking the other young man in his arms. He would worry no more, or much later than now. He needed sleep.

But the woman's scream echoed in his head, and he could find no solace.

* * *

Finally, Harry had finished his final class. He slipped away from Tom and the others, professing a need to go to the library. He assumed he had an hour, or two, tops, before the Slytherin Prince sent out a search party. He quickly left the castle and down through the garden he cut through into a small patch of forests. He stopped briefly at a clearing, bittersweet memory overwhelming him. Shaking his head he carried on, and soon found himself at the rocky shore of the lake.

He found a proverbial flower and sat down on a rock that seemed detached from the mainland. He jumped to it, nearly fell, but steadied and all was well. He noticed other rocks around him, and this made him smile. With a sigh, he tossed the flower in the water, and waited.

He waited, and waited. Harry stared intently at the water, head jerking up at every odd sound. At one moment, he felt the object of scrutiny and curiosity. He had then looked about and readied himself for the attack, but had never again felt the unknown presence. Relenting, Harry huffed and sat back.

Finally, Gillani appeared, at first a fine grey mist below the water, become clearer as she rose to the surface. She gasped as she breached the surface, wiped her hair from her face, and then looked over at Harry. She swam over with a small smile and found a rock to rest against, folding her arms and resting her chin, staring at the young wizard intently.

_Has your stay improved?_ She quipped.

Harry nodded; "Yes, oblate a little awkward," he replied.

Gillani nodded; _What troubles you?_

How could she tell? Harry sighed, not wanting to really know, and said; "I'm still confused about how I'm going to get out of this mess."

_Don't worry about that_, Gillani chided gently. _These things, they tend to end themselves in ways you wouldn't expect._

Harry took a moment for her words to sink in; "I suppose that's true," he said, looking down; "I'm beginning to miss the people I love."

Gillani looked at him sympathetically. _This disheartens me so_, she said, _for I know of such longing._ She blinked then, long, provoking; _You though, you will be strong and survive._

"Well, of course," Harry said with a small halfhearted laugh. "I must."

_Exactly_, Gillani said with a small smile.

Harry looked at her, and could not help but smile back. But the mermaid's smile was the first to fade. _What _really_ troubles you_? She asked.

Harry sighed; "The man I am meant to kill is quickly becoming too close to me."

Gillani stared at him. _As in… love?_ She asked slowly, and Harry shrugged.

"More fixation, not as serious as _love_," he shivered; "Love is far too dangerous."

Gillani nodded. _Males may love other males in your society?_ She asked, her curiosity peaked.

Harry nodded; "But now, in this time, laws are against such a love," he said; "In my time though, it is widely accepted."

Again, that simple nod. _You must feel awkward!_ She said, smiling. _It must be hard, for you and this other man._

"Surprisingly, not really," Harry said; "No one has caught on. But… it's moved so fast. We went from locking eyes to locking… other things…" he blushed and averted his gaze.

Gillani's smile grew and she covered her mouth as she giggled. _Well, is this a _bad_ thing? _

"It… could be," Harry said, looking at her again; "It could be fake."

_Or ill-fated_, Gillani mused, averting her gaze to prove a point.

Harry frowned; "You'll find fate a tender matter when it comes to me," he said lowly.

_Fate should be a tender subject for anyone_, Gillani said, looking back at him; _Everyone should respect fate._

"I don't," Harry said; "I loathe it. Fate can burn for all I care."

His dark words rang wit truth and bitter memory. Gillani was taken aback at first, but she nodded. _You have such a right to say so_, she said, _but that does not spare you from Fate. _

Harry was about to reply, but he stopped when he heard his name being called; "Gillani, quickly, go!" he said urgently, getting up too fast and slipping.

"Tomelson? Oy, Tomelsooooooooooooooooooooooon!"

Gillani reached out and Harry felt himself suspended in midair. Gillani moved her hand, ushering him to the land, and then with a lingering wink, she disappeared into the murky depths of the lake.

Harry dusted himself off professionally, just in time to see Romulus and Selred running over; "we've been looking everywhere!" Romulus said exasperatedly when they reached Harry; "Come on, we've got to show you something!"

"What?" Harry asked, and Selred clarified.

"Well, you see," he said professionally; "We've a little gathering we want you to be a part of. And, it will call for skipping dinner, but there will be food there."

"So come on, 'Guest of Honor'!" Romulus said, grabbing Harry's wrist and dragging him as he began to run off.

Selred easily kept up with them. "Why are we running?" Harry asked.

"Cuz we're late, that's why!" Romulus replied.

"You just want the food," Selred muttered dryly, and Romulus mimicked him like a small child would another.

* * *

They arrived on the seventh floor out of breath. Harry bent over to catch a breath of air, not paying attention to his surroundings. When Harry stood straight again, he realized they were at the foot of a staircase that spiraled upward to the top of a tower.

"Um, were to?" Harry asked, but he found himself alone. Looking again he saw that Selred and Romulus were already making their way up to the top of the tower. Grumbling, Harry followed, taking his dear time as he was weary from the run.

* * *

"Should we do this? I mean, perhaps we should give this more time…"

"No, we're doing it."

"But, he's not even been here a whole semester!"

"So? Aldrich has a point, and besides Romulus, Tomelson just doesn't sit well with me."

"I don't agree with you there. Seems like a fine chap to me!"

"Everyone's a 'fine chap' to you, Romulus. You don't know what a stranger is. I wonder what he was doing out at the lake…" Selred muttered to his companion as they mounted the steps.

"The same thing _we_ were doing out at the lake," Romulus replied with a sly grin.

Selred punched the other's shoulder and frowned; "Hush about that!" he chastised; "I'm serious."

Romulus shrugged; "Probably getting fresh air," he said.

"Didn't you smell what was on the air?" Selred asked.

"That sweet, marine smell?" Romulus replied, and Selred nodded; "Yeah, but…" it suddenly dawned on him; "You don't think…?"

"I do," Selred said; "Quick, we're almost there."

They grew quiet as they reached the door at the top of the stairs. IT would lead out to a parapet. They turned and waited for Harry to join them.

"Okay," Harry said, looking form one to the other; "What now?"

"What you are about to witness cannot in any way be repeated to anyone outside of this time," Selred said, regardless of Harry's question.

"Witness? What…?"

"Should you at any time decide to repeat what you are about to witness, you will be disemboweled on the spot…"

"Wait, what? _Disemboweled_!" Harry asked, but already Selred had cast a spell and Harry was sent to his knees as he shivered spastically. Mortified, he rose when it was over, and gave Selred a heated glare.

Romulus coughed; "Harry Tomelson," he said, his hand on the door knob; "We welcome you to_ The Order of the Serpentine Inquisition Number Thirty and Four_."

And the Door was opened, and Harry was blinded by a bright light, dragged forward by strangers' hands...

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

A/n: told you. I'm evil, of this i'm well aware. But next chapter will be nice and juicy and full of twists and explanations! 


	8. A Cool, Dark Place

A/N: First off let me apologize for being Missing In Action for so, so long. I have been swamped with living, as it were. But I am back and hopefully will keep up a steady flow of updates! I love you all for being so patient with me.

Disclaimer : I own nothing. Congratulations

**When the Clock Defies the Time**

**Chapter Eight: A Cool, Dark Place**

Harry gritted his teeth as his knees met cold stone floor, his hands quick to follow with a smack. The door closed, and wind brushed against his form. Looking up, Harry's' eyes were hard and defiant, an animal cornered.

There were figures circled around him, all with shadows cast across their features, thus making them indistinguishable. It was dark out on the parapet… where was he? Possibly the Astronomy tower, but his location was not of great concern, or countenance. Harry was more focused with what he heard…

"Harry Tomelson… get up."

Glaring Harry was tempted not to rise, but as a figure stepped from the ring of unknowns, Harry did rise. The blonde hair was unmistakable, even in the lighting. Aldrich Malfoy stood, tall and stoic as ever, head held high with superiority. Even if he did not intend it, it was clear he was "in charge" of this gathering.

"What's this all about, Malfoy," Harry asked, now annoyed more than anything.

"Perhaps you'd like to sit, first," Aldrich said, drawing out his wand and flicking it.

Harry felt as though there were strong hands against his chest, and he was thrown back. But instead of hitting the ground, as he had anticipated, he found himself sitting in a chair. Two people pushed him farther into the center of the circle afterward, and Harry just stared at Aldrich with a cool hatred that he could muster only for Draco Malfoy himself.

"Well?" Harry asked, relaxing a bit; "Get on with it then, whatever you've got planned."

Aldrich chuckled a dry, quiet chuckle, putting his wand away, and crossing his arms; "Think you're clever, don't you?" he asked; "Tomelson, you're quite outrageous for a Frenchman… you'll find I am not the only one to think this. In the past two months of your stay, I know no more about you than when you first arrived. And that, I will add, is not a lot at all."

"Some people value privacy," Harry said, watching Aldrich as the blonde began to circle the pinned youth.

"Ah yes, you've done a good job at that, being private," Aldrich mused; "But Tomelson, you're not like us… why are you in Slytherin? You've been known to stop the odd hassling a Slytherin should be inclined to support and even embellish upon…"

"Some people also have morals," Harry muttered; "Forgive me for stepping in when a first year is about to be thrown into a box of blast-ended skrewts!" Harry's voice rose as he spoke, and his eyes hardened at this inquisition. It was obvious Aldrich was on to Harry's ruse, and quite possibly, his predicament.

"Temper, temper," Aldrich chided, patting Harry's shoulder though the teen shied away and glowered; "Tell me, Tomelson, _Combien français savez-vous ?_"

Harry blinked. Someone had finally decided to test his authenticity of being French. But quickly he picked through the words, and what time elapsed was passed off as him staring Aldrich down. But his head was spinning. What had he said? How well do you speak French/Shit, not very well at all/ Harry thought to himself.

"_Assez_," Harry finally replied curtly; "Enough."

"It's time you stopped lying to us, Tomelson," Aldrich said, mirth leaving his face, and the circle tightened a bit; "If that is _your_ name."

Preferring to stay stony and silent, Harry glared at Aldrich coolly, and said as thought musing; "Suppose you'd think that much, Aldrich. Never have been the open sort to change, though, have you? Never will, I imagine…"

Oh, but he need not imagine a thing. Harry knew. And his comment caused Aldrich to pause in his stride for a moment. Be it in unease, surprise, or that pause before a victory dance, Aldrich's face turned upward in a grin.

"You see, it is the comments like that that have me rethinking your arrival and existence, Tomelson… _Crucio_!" He suddenly cried, wand appearing in his hand and a stream of curse flying at Harry.

Harry was short of breath when the spell hit him, then he convulsed in a wave of pain. Falling from the chair he gasped and closed his eyes, not about to cry out. Aldrich would not be given that satisfaction. But the pain was so much more than intense. He felt as if his skin was being ripped off and then stapled back on, his head being hit with sledge hammers and he just couldn't stand it. Stabbing, someone was surely stabbing him in the back, the side. This couldn't be the effects of a single spell. But it was, and he was gritting his teeth so fervently he thought his molars would crack and crumble…

Harry dropped lower, now on his knees, elbows digging into the ground as his hands held his head. Make it stop, you can do it, Harry told himself, but inside he was screaming. You can overcome it…

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Aldrich had a malicious, domineering smirk on his face. All of his hate, all of his anger, all of himself, was put into the spell. Aldrich was notorious for casting painful dark curses, and he would cast them with disregard. What authority did anyone else have?

Aldrich lessened the curse somewhat, and Harry finally took in a deep, hoarse breath, the sound grating through his dry throat; "Now… what is your _real_ name?" he asked.

Harry coughed, tasting blood from his lip. Had he bitten through it? There was a possibility he had, but he wasn't inclined to care. Harry looked up at Aldrich, hot, angry tears gathering in his green orbs.

"Harry," he spat with malice. Ooh, if only he had his wand, or the thought to cast a spell…

Aldrich picked up the curse again. Harry cringed, craning his head back, feeling like a beaten animal in a corner as he went down completely.

"Harry _what_?" Aldrich asked, but he did not lessen the curse; "I cannot help but notice your resemblance to Otto Potter… And I wonder, why you are so defensive over these simple quandaries?"

Harry gasped for breath, feeling as though he'd been thrown into a pit of fire. He cried out, heard snickering from the crowd, and a pathetic "Aldrich, that's quite enough." Selred had tried but Aldrich told him off, speaking something Harry couldn't register. Everything was starting to spin… who was it that had stood up for him? Selred? Selred Snape? There was irony in that mess somewhere…

"Perhaps you should take to being defensive _now_, Aldrich."

There was an undisputed hush that claimed the parapet then. Aldrich stood straight, but Harry did not move. He knew the voice, and at this point, it was an angelic musing. It cut through the jumbled reality he fought to stay conscious in. Inwardly he sighed thankfully, and the pain seemed to lessen a little bit more.

It was none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle, who stood in the doorway, walking out and closing it slowly. The grating sound of the door echoed, and chilled the bone. Aldrich, if it were possible, paled, but did not seem deterred.

"Tom, I was just getting to you-" He started.

"You called a meeting without _my_ consent?" Tom asked abruptly, voice calm as he somehow spoke over Aldrich; "Why are we holding this inquisition?"

The circle relaxed pathetically quickly, and Aldrich was on his own. The pain died from Harry but he was still in agony. He looked up as Tom stopped beside him. Crouching down Tom brushed the bangs from Harry's face. Harry caught a brief glimpse of concern in Tom's cold jade eyes, and it was obvious he was angry.

"Just relax, Harry," Tom muttered, then rising, he faced Aldrich, face etched with a calm anger.

"Well?"

Aldrich did not falter with his words. He was afraid of Tom, for sure, but never would he be a bumbling idiot. "This Inquisition was called in regards to the mysterious nature of Harry Tomelson's Arrival and current residence, as well as his peculiar standing with one Mister Riddle…"

"His standing with me is of no countenance to you," Tom said, cool as ever, but his eyes cold as ice. "_Or__this gathering_." He cast a disappointed look around the circle.

"But when there is a potential threat to said gathering, then it becomes of great countenance, and one needing clear interpretation," Aldrich stated.

"This meeting is adjourned," Tom said, his voice booming though it barely rose in volume.

"It is NOT adjourned!" Aldrich bellowed back; "This Inquisition is not terminated until all have agreed upon it!"

"You'd do well by watching your tone, Aldrich," Tom warned, though he was inwardly unsettled by the murmurs of agreement.

Looking around, Tom eyed each and every one of them, not fooled by the cloaks or shadows; "Do you all agree with Aldrich Malfoy?" he asked, voice booming; "Do you consent to this man hunt?"

Now the parapet was eerily quiet. Harry looked around from where he lay, rising to rest his wait on folded legs, one arm around his torso while a hand was pressed against the cool stone for support. But his eyes always returned to Tom. He had leadership emanating from him like it was contagious. Harry was tempted to disagree, because that was the answer Tom wanted to hear. Sadly, no one moved to agree or disagree. They were afraid.

Aldrich cleared his throat. This was going no where. He was not going to get his answers tonight. Tom faced Aldrich again.

"This meeting has henceforth been _adjourned_."

- - -

"Thanks… again. I didn't know they were going to do that."

"Yes, well, it's a very appropriate thing for a Malfoy to do. Why were you on your own, anyway?"

"I… I was talking with someone."

Tom looked at Harry, stopping as he was about to take his shirt off. They were back in their dormitory, an hour after the Inquisition. Harry sat on his bed, staring at the floor, his face flushed from the stress of the curse. He had bruises along his bare chest, faint splotches of blue and purple. It was a sanguine tapestry. Tom crossed the room, and stood a little ways away from Harry.

"… I don't think it's safe for you anymore, Harry. Not here, at least."

Harry's head snapped up, his dark hair tossed to back from his eyes for the briefest moment. The emerald eyes locked with the teal that wearily watched him, and the youth frowned; "What do you mean?" Harry asked; "Aldrich was just getting too comfortable with himself. It's nothing…"

"Harry, he is on to you!" Tom said; "I won't have your blood on my hands."

"Yeah, because you already have enough on your hands, don't you…?" Harry asked, well beneath his breath, before abruptly rising and going outside, into the small sitting room.

Tom followed him out; "What?" he all but snapped, and Harry looked up at him as he sat down in the middle of the sofa.

"I didn't say anything," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms.

Tom suppressed a shudder of unease as he went over to Harry and boldly stood in front of him. He shoved the leaner teen back, one hand resting on the back of the sofa by Harry's shoulder, the other turning Harry's chin so he was forced to look at him.

"It's those comments that got you beaten up, Harry," he said, tone even but threatening ot be harsh; "What the hell is going on with you? You haven't been acting right at all for the past few weeks."

Harry's gaze hardened as he built up his walls. "You wouldn't understand, you couldn't begin to," he said quietly.

Tom sighed, let Harry go, and hung his head. Pushing off from the sofa, he rose and bean to pace in front of the warm fire, watching it eat up the logs for a moment. He looked back at Harry, confused. Too much blood on his hands? Yet another hint his future was grim. But Tom Riddle did have his ideas, and what Harry did say, under his breath or out in the open, was only a reassurance. Harry watched Tom pace, and when their eyes met, harry looked down. He never could look Tom in the eyes for too long. Tom wanted to know why.

"Harry, why can't you hold a gaze with me?" Tom asked, walking over again.

Harry bit his lip; "You couldn't begin to understand…" he repeated.

"Tell me," Tom was standing in front of him again.

"You couldn't…"

The Slytherin Prince sat down beside Harry, his features now simpered; "Tell me.."

"I can't!" Harry said, and growling Tom launched himself at Harry.

He easily pinned the shorter youth to the sofa, and hovered above him. Harry squirmed, and Tom smirked, his eyes for a moment seeming to be tainted with crimson.

"Gerrof me, Tom!" Harry said through gritted teeth, his chest panged and wrists in the other youth's hold. The time traveler had his eyes tightly shut.

"Harry hold a gaze with me or tell me why you can't." Tom said, not relenting; "Is it because I'm hideous, or that I'm hideous later on? Answer me, Harry, Answer me!"

He watched as Harry squirmed, his curiosity almost too much to bear. Now his anger was the securest anchor at getting answers. He was tired of just letting Harry float. He needed to know why Harry would look at him with anger, disdain, disgust, and confusion, on those rare glances Harry thought Tom had missed. No, Tom had seen them. And he needed to know, he NEEDED to!

Harry grappled for freedom, but finally, he couldn't. His chest was hurting too much, and he was just too dog tired – emotionally, physically, just sick and tired. He sank into the sofa, panting, and Tom kept him pinned there. Finally he looked up at Tom. Their eyes met and Harry tried to keep the contact. But he saw Cedric dying. In those pools of Teal, he saw his mother's face. He watched buildings burn and heard people scream. He saw flashes of fliers and newspapers and the Dursleys and everyone and –

He closed his eyes tightly and turned his head, biting his lip and Tom blinked, frowning. Still no answer, still no solace and his curiosity was aching. Leaning down, he breathed hotly against Harry's neck and ear, causing the teen below him to shiver.

"So you won't tell me?" Tom asked against Harry's ear, smirking at another, slight shudder; "I just asked a simple question…"

"It's n-not easy to answer," Harry replied shakily; "G-Get off, Tom, I'm t-tired…"

Tom shook his head and chuckled quietly, deeply, his hand running from Harry's wrist, to along his arm, and up to cup his jaw. He placed a soft kiss on Harry's supple lips, and whispered against them; "I'm sorry I couldn't control my anger… I just got too frustrated… forgive me?"

Harry hesitated, then returned the kiss softly and quickly, nodding afterward. Sighing again Tom leaned back, releasing Harry as he sat up and rubbed his temples. Watching him warily Harry sat up as well, leaning against the armrest of the sofa. That had been so strange, and now Harry felt an almost child like fear for Tom creeping up into his soul. Because in that moment, Tom had died. In that moment, Harry had seen a glimpse of Voldemort…

Perhaps some things, they just couldn't be helped. Harry was starting to think he had been around for far too long...

"Tom…" Harry said quietly.

"Yes?" The youth replied, looking at him.

Harry looked down, and then looked back at his roommate, his timely savior; "I… I'd like to tell you," he gulped; "But I've already done so much by even being here. If you knew, god knows what would get changed later…"

Tom watched Harry, and then, he nodded; "I understand," he said, looking away. Then, he spoke quietly again; "Back in that thicket… when I asked you if I became a murderer…" Harry gulped, Tom kept talking anyway; "… I murder someone close to you, don't I?"

Harry swallowed a hard knot in his throat, or tried. "Very close," he managed, fighting tears.

Tom closed his eyes, rubbed them gingerly. Silence hung thick and tense in the stillness of the room. Harry doubted it could be cut, even with a chainsaw. He found it hard to breathe as he closed his eyes. / I won't remember, I won't cry/ he told himself.

It was then he felt something on his knee, a warm, heavy weight he couldn't decide to welcome or not. It was Tom's hand. Harry had just endured a very rocky roller coaster, and he was tired. Tom voiced an accurate observation; "You should rest." And Harry simply nodded. "I do." Tom helped him up, taking his hand. The sudden gentleness and care was odd, putting him in a state of unrest.

But their shared bedroom was comforting and dark. The sheets, were cool, and Harry gratefully fell into them and tried to get lost in the voluminous linen… until the sun shone in his face. Tom was in his own bed. The gap beside the raven-haired youth was oddly alien, but Harry didn't want to admit that. He rose, showered, and after dressing, opted for going to breakfast. Tom didn't want him to, but he did.

Harry entered the great hall, and it was hushed. /Some things never change/ he thought bitterly, as he strode over to the Slytherin table. Romulus patted the empty space beside him, and Selred even scooted over. Harry sat down between them, and saw how tense they were. Wordlessly he reached over, and grabbed a biscuit. Romulus tried to get Harry to talk, but it didn't much work. Selred and he exchanged glances, and they allowed the youth his moment of silence.

The rumble of speech sprang anew, and the Black in question started running his mouth about Quidditch teams. Harry only half listened. He played with his food, and before he realized it, he was arriving for lunch. The day had gone by so fast and all he could think of was about how much he had done to the future. He wondered if time had elapsed at the same rate in both times. God, what if people thought him for dead? What if… no, Harry couldn't think it. He kept telling himself things were fine, but they weren't.

He needed to see Gillani.

So he skipped lunch. There was probably very little he could get in his stomach, anyway. But as Harry took the familiar trail towards the lake, voice wafted up on the cold autumn wind. Ducking behind a tree, Harry peeked around, and saw a small gathering by the lake side. One was distinctly Otto Potter, without robes though his gold and red tie was loose and being blown by the wind. The other, was the red headed Gryffindor from the pub, who Harry was beginning to think was a Weaseley, perhaps Arthur's father. Then the sandy-haired Gryffindor, a Slytherin Harry didn't know… Then… There was Aldrich, and Roderick.

It was Aldrich's voice, that had drifted up to Harry's ears. "… We cannot have him here, Potter, and you don't want him here, either."

"He's a bit of a freak, sure," Otto was saying; "But I don't see how this concerns me."

"It is ever bit concerned with you," Roderick said; "By helping us get rid of him, you'll get back at one of your greatest threats."

"Riddle?" Now the Potter's eyebrow quirked up, then he smirked; "So it is true, he's just a little figure head?"

"In all the name implies," Aldrich replied; "Now, to business…"

"Someone's listening in!" The redheaded Gryffindor suddenly said, and Harry found himself suddenly revealed.

Turning he started at a run, but someone shouted a stunning spell. Hitting the ground seconds later Harry groaned. His legs, numb, he was soon dragged over by Roderick and the redhead. Thrown into he circle he flipped over onto his back, and glared at Aldrich.

"What do we have here…" Aldrich mused, frowning down at Harry; "Little bastard, quite the nosy pest, aren't you?"

Otto watched on, before walking closer. He wasn't looking at Harry, but at his Slytherin Cohorts; "Look, he's fallen right into our hands. Let's just be done with him now."

Roderick gasped; "Now?"

"Well, we have to," Aldrich said, with a roll of his grey eyes; "he knows too much. He'll go running to Tom after this."

Harry glared at Aldrich, defiant until the end; "Someone get this jynx off me," he growled, and Roderick chuckled.

"Oh shut up!" He said, before kicking Harry in the side.

Winded Harry doubled over, watching as the circle around him receded. "Who's going to do it?" Otto asked.

"Why, you are, Mister Potter," Aldrich drawled.

"I am most certainly not going to be doing it!"

"Yes, yes you are."

"Over my dead body."

"That will be arranged," Roderick interjected; "Should you fail to comply. Now, Mister Potter."

"I won't kill him," Otto repeated forcefully.

"No one has to kill me!" Harry shouted, eyes a bit wide. Were they actually serious?

"God, I will," Aldrich said, and he grabbed Otto's wand from his hand; "I don't have my own," he added with a grin, and before Otto could protest, Aldrich had the wand out towards Harry.

Harry always wondered, what it would be like to stare death in the face. He thought he had already, on a number of occasions. But this was perhaps the closest he'd ever gotten, and death had the face of an arrogant, sardonic, handsome Slytherin. A Malfoy. Harry was bound and determined not to appear frightened. He glared at Aldrich, almost daring him, damning him. Harry did not want to die this way, but he was unable to walk, unable to get away. And it was that grip of fear that kept him unable to register his ability to perform wandless magic. At that moment, he'd forgotten, and he was just another scared teenager in the corner of an alley.

"Aldrich…" Roderick suddenly chimed, warningly, "Aldrich, perhaps we should rethink this…"

"No! We've had this planned, _for months!_" Aldrich shouted, a wild look to his eyes, wand trained on Harry though he looked at Roderick; "We cannot – we will not! – go back now!" He looked again at Harry, but the raven-haired youth saw Aldrich's hand quiver ever so slightly.

"Avada…" the wand tip glowed a sickly green…

"NO!" Otto shouted; "Aldrich, this is madness!"

"THERE IS TOO MUCH AT STAKE, POTTER," Aldrich bellowed; "I and my counterparts have too much weighing on whether or not this boy lives, and it's in our best interest… _that he dies_…" Again, he opened his mouth…

… Hollow. That was how it sounded. But packed with passion at the same time. It was confusing, really. Such an oxymoron. Everything in life was a contradiction, it seemed. Maybe… maybe Life itself was a contradiction. As Harry's eyes gave away his inner feelings and widened, all he saw was a sick green, and heard a shout. "HARRY!"

So familiar… Tom? But no, he suddenly didn't care. Suspended, asleep almost, he receded into a cool, dark place…

_"Harry? Harry…"_

_"Harry, wake up…"_

_…_

_"…Tom?"_

* * *

**TBC  
**

* * *


End file.
